Dust
Wide awake, staring at the ceiling.
Air intake, the wounds stopped healing.
A burning fire in my heart,
Vowed, "till death do us apart"
It's funny ain't it? Having so much hope,
Telling stories down an endless road,
Your hand in mine,
Our own world in time,
Once you were mine,
But,
We were just young and naïve,
Thought this was true love indeed,
And it was,
It was,
But now it's dust.
A/N: This is not based off true story.
I hope you enjoy this poem as much as I enjoy writing this. Tell me what you think.
Loads of love, Mirror XX)
YOU ARE READING
Unheard - a poem collection
PoetryWriting poems is my escape. I wrote what i see,feel, and taste. Some from experience, Some fictional, Pick out a few from my selection, Now it's a little collection.
