Souvenir
I raised my palm, tracing the beatings inside my chest. It spoke about a scar that's long been forgotten.
It's been awhile. Though, it isn't enough. To completely heal my heart that it still hurts whenever touched.
Is this your gift?
A long and enduring souvenir, indeed.
S. 04252019.
YOU ARE READING
When You're Not Looking
PuisiFor the love of poems, proses, words, and stuffs. Just a girl who wished to conquer the heights with love but less of your prejudice. I write rhymes so you can hear my heart. I write them as the whirling thoughts escaping my mind. So if you happ...
