You're not here
yet you're everywhere.
Whenever I close my eyes
my mind travels back
to that night.
A broken-hearted me
begging in vain
a completely indifferent you
to stay.
YOU ARE READING
Pain on paper
PoetrySometimes I speak to you As if you were Still here, I Think it's called Poetry (David Jones)
Five
You're not here
yet you're everywhere.
Whenever I close my eyes
my mind travels back
to that night.
A broken-hearted me
begging in vain
a completely indifferent you
to stay.
