written
on February 13, 2014
My memory of you is like the scent of cigarettes drenched in my clothing and no matter how many times I wash them I can never seem to get rid of you in my mind.
You’re permanently stuck there like a tattoo implanted in my brain and I’d like to say it’s a nice feeling to know you’re always around but it’s not.
I want you gone, I don’t want to think of you because when I do the endless nights seem to get a bit longer and I’m here alone in my room writing a poem you’ll never see, being stuck on the memory of
you like a broken record player while you’re moving on with your life.
Feb 26, 2014
Feb 26, 2014 at 5:01 PM UTC
written
on February 13, 2014
My memory of you is like the scent of cigarettes drenched in my clothing and no matter how many times I wash them I can never seem to get rid of you in my mind.
You’re permanently stuck there like a tattoo implanted in my brain and I’d like to say it’s a nice feeling to know you’re always around but it’s not.
I want you gone, I don’t want to think of you because when I do the endless nights seem to get a bit longer and I’m here alone in my room writing a poem you’ll never see, being stuck on the memory of
you like a broken record player while you’re moving on with your life.
