Scratches on a sheet
Of paper.
Ashes falling, warm,
From smoke.
Words still waiting at
My teeth,
About the fading sound--
Your hope.
Stained on me, these memories
Of you,
The sound of your
Heart, and
The voice of your
Eyes, so
Bright and warm and drained
Of lies.
Now gone, now happy, I'm glad
For you.
You found your place,
So far,
But you are still so,
So gone.
And dear, we part, I'll bid
So long.
Jul 8, 2015
Jul 8, 2015 at 12:38 AM UTC
Scratches on a sheet
Of paper.
Ashes falling, warm,
From smoke.
Words still waiting at
My teeth,
About the fading sound--
Your hope.
Stained on me, these memories
Of you,
The sound of your
Heart, and
The voice of your
Eyes, so
Bright and warm and drained
Of lies.
Now gone, now happy, I'm glad
For you.
You found your place,
So far,
But you are still so,
So gone.
And dear, we part, I'll bid
So long.
