Twenty-third of November
In the year twenty-seventeen
Darn, I'll never forget this
Highly momentous day.
A message popped up
On the screen of my phone
A simple "hi" was enough
To bring me back to my senses.
Who would've thought
That someone who lived at
The memory of the past
Will still remember.
"Oh, hi," is all I could manage
You'll never understand how
Happy I am to finally talk to you
It's like, the things that happened
So far were just nightmares
And purely a fruit of my
Imagination gone wild.
Oh, Santos, my man
Nice to meet you
Will you still love me
As a friend Is all I could
Ask for at least
Even if I commited
Suicide.
YOU ARE READING
Pastel Yellow
PoetryI'm not so sure How are you able to see Through those thick-rimmed Glasses of yours To think that someone like Is pretty enough To be yours. What have I done For the Great King to Give me the most precious Reward I could ever acquire. ...
