Love is a funny thing.
It can make you do funny things.
Looking at photos,
constantly on your mind,
Unable to control your actions around that person. Always feeling 100 different ways at once and never wanting one of them to be a misstep.
And then it's gone.
Slips through your fingers like sand. But a quote I read recently said:
"People say that time slips through our fingers like sand. What they don't acknowledge is that some of the sand sticks to the skin. These are memories that will remain, memories of the time when there was still time left"
- David Levithan, Invisibility
But once's it's gone.
It's gone.
I wanted to be the man she wanted me to be. But she doesn't want me to be that man anymore. She's found someone else who already had that, while I was still working for it. I was too late. Should I give up? Does that mean my chances are over? Times up?
Can you click my back? Like you used too
Can you snuggle with me? Like you used too
Can you wrap your legs around mine? Like we used too
Can you love me? Like you used too
Can we go back to how I'm used too. I don't like this change. I hate this change. Please stop this change.
Fix this change.
Changes...
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Poems of a Broken Man
PoésieHere you will find short examples of poetry, from me, a broken man. I'm not as broken as others, but as a writer, one of the most creative and vulnerable things you can be is broken. If you have one take away from these, please make it this; Check u...
