A crumpled piece of paper
blows by the pavement,
I walk on.
It tosses and turns,
it dances to the rhythm of the wind,
and I feel the cool breeze brush,
gently, over the warmth of my skin.
The creases of the paper remind me of him
and so do brown, leather-bound books.
There are folds, there are lines, there are wrinkles.
and somehow,
within that,
his reflection emanates.
Sometimes,
on a strange day,
I see him
in the faces,
of the strangers,
I pass by on the streets.
I find shattered pieces of him,
in every song I listen to.
Sometimes ,
I can hear your voice,
roaming around the corners
of the city streets,
and sometimes when I'm alone,
Sometimes I can still hear your footsteps
around the corridors.
At times,
I can still paint the scenes where
we silently passed by.
Why do I still search for you?
Search for the features I can still remember,
the images that have never faded from my memory.
Why does everything and everyone,
remind me of you?
Can you explain to me please,
what did it mean?
when you
looked back,
for the very last time?
Were you searching for me?
As I have always been,
searching for you?
YOU ARE READING
SHITTY LOVE SONNETS / flashpoetry
PoetryIt was only in the chaos, I was able to cultivate my wings and alas, take flight. ------------------------ flash, emotive poetry - words of mine, to all the boys I've loved before, but also to myself. started : summer 2019
