your hum is still playing
in my apartment like you're the voice
of this living room.
I couldn't hold the walls
and I still am trying to;
guilt is what I taste every time
I try to let go— my lips
can't stop spewing our memories
on every candle I blow
because you're not here
and I'm not ready to let it go.
Aug 8, 2021
Aug 8, 2021 at 1:03 AM UTC
your hum is still playing
in my apartment like you're the voice
of this living room.
I couldn't hold the walls
and I still am trying to;
guilt is what I taste every time
I try to let go— my lips
can't stop spewing our memories
on every candle I blow
because you're not here
and I'm not ready to let it go.
Request permission to use this poem