I'd rather be accustomed to it by now:
It's just my shadow and I;
My only refuge
In this painful solitude
Of a dark home,
And dusty furniture,
Forgotten photographs
Of a once- happy family
Or what's left of them
buried under marble with
Fresh green grass
And shriveled roses
Scattered around
Like broken, shards of glass.
YOU ARE READING
When The Heart Whispers
PoesíaThe poems reflect evergreen and intense emotions while others are as light and weightless as feathers. It's like the heart whispers softly, waiting to be heard. ~Vote and Comment~ © tanxsha [Previously warped_realities]
