Scribbles of Insanity
I miss the giggle from you
When I used to tickle you.
I read the scribbles I wrote for you
When I think of fickle thing done by you .
Those scraps of paper those stains of ink
Are what helps me to remind that you were real not the illusion of a blink.
Oh I know I am crushed with the curiosity of where you are tonight.
Oh I know I am cursed with the insanity to imagine with whom you are tonight.
Lost what mattered to me
Left without what scattered of me.
YOU ARE READING
poeTRY (Volume 2)
PoesíaFirst time Poems by our newest Pubbers. Our second Edition.