November 13,
We were still in our teens.
Falling over each other,
we thought of it as affection.
Didn't see this love,
turning into perfection.
I am now holding on to the leftover pieces,
Covering the voids and all the creases.
Dying across the shore of our sea,
Was it so easy to let go of me?
Full of elation,
now will you ever be?
Felt contented by your side,
or was it just me?
Is it wrong of me to look back to us holding hands?
Or is it just my love,
on a deserted land?
November 13,
We were still in our teens.
Waiting for you, by the porch.
My eyes are dying to see you come back home.
-Azmii•
YOU ARE READING
In Verse
PoetryI trace verses from my portrait. A collection of poetries • by Azmii (•Image credits to the rightful owner)
