pale mornings
swaying green trees in a
powder blue breeze
the beating heart
of the early morning,
a lover in ruined sheets
alone but not forgotten,
the early morning exhales
as if it's running out of time
as if there are more empty streets
to wander along
as if there are more unseen gusts
for it to blow
i am the early morning
i am the lover in ruined sheets
but i am more forgotten
than i even know
YOU ARE READING
Poems
PoetryThis is a poetry book made from people who request to put their own poems in here to any poem I find online. It is made for people to share and express their thoughts and emotions. *NONE OF THESE POEMS BELONG TO ME* (REQUESTS ARE CLOSE)
