Streetlights never lit the same like on those days we used to do midnight walks together, talking about the most random things under the moonbeam.
Now, stars are hiding beneath sheets of clouds and this gloomy road I'm wandering upon alone makes me feel like the darkness is eating me up alive.
The sound of my battered shoes against the concrete floor with my unhurried steps but erratic heartbeats — I knew, how memories and feelings are kept even if the person is gone.
YOU ARE READING
POETRY THAT STAYS
PoetryYou don't really love someone, not until they become the person behind of your poetries. When poetry speaks, it echoes through your soul, lingers in your heart, and dances in your dreams. And... it stays. I wrote poems enough for people to ask, "w...
