I do not know how this will end...
perhaps, I should not even lift my pen -
A ghost you were in the year before
Nothing about you did I adore.
What could have happened then?
descend did I, into sinking sand?
I never knew about you
Yet here I am.
Speaking of days buried in the past
In my mind, in vain, they were left to rust.
Your smile was bright. Your soul a light.
The piano was your voice, a voice I liked...
My words are flowing out, but here they must
end. For these memories, shall be my past.
Aug 23, 2019
Aug 23, 2019 at 10:37 AM UTC
I do not know how this will end...
perhaps, I should not even lift my pen -
A ghost you were in the year before
Nothing about you did I adore.
What could have happened then?
descend did I, into sinking sand?
I never knew about you
Yet here I am.
Speaking of days buried in the past
In my mind, in vain, they were left to rust.
Your smile was bright. Your soul a light.
The piano was your voice, a voice I liked...
My words are flowing out, but here they must
end. For these memories, shall be my past.