There will come a point
In the future
When I am past tense
But that is not what scares me
Rather, I am scared that
Your memory of me
Will be like an impressionist painting
Seemingly solid from afar
But up close?
Just millions of brush strokes
Straining
Working overtime
Trying to hold together
Your waning memory of me
And maybe I'm scared that
It won't take you long
Before you forget
How my fingertips smelt like cigarettes
Or how I hated it when
People put milk in the bowl before cereal
But maybe
But maybe what I'm scared
Is that you'll remember
All of it
And that you'll be helpless
With nothing to be done
That you'll have to feel the way that I did
When you left
With my hands overflowing with
Everything that I had to
Say and do and give and show
And all the love I had for you, ending up as
Leftovers
~from LUKEWARM by OCKTOPUSES
YOU ARE READING
DEMONS AND ANGELS
PoesíaPOETRY FROM MULTIPLE AUTHORS ON WATTPAD AS WELL AS MY OWN. I GIVE CREDIT AS CREDIT IS DUE. *TRIGGER WARNING! MAY BE GRAPHIC AT TIMES*
