it's an odd feeling
To pass someone by
and to know that their favourite colour is green
and that they like only one sugar in their tea
and to remember slurred words that fell from their mouth
and to remember
that you know your way
around the dustiest corners of their house
to know that they hate being tickled
on the curves of their hips
or to know that you've placed countless kisses
upon their hopelessly chapped lips
but mostly it's just sad
to pass someone by
and to look at them knowing
that never again
will they stop to say hi
Sep 4, 2015
Sep 4, 2015 at 10:47 PM UTC
it's an odd feeling
To pass someone by
and to know that their favourite colour is green
and that they like only one sugar in their tea
and to remember slurred words that fell from their mouth
and to remember
that you know your way
around the dustiest corners of their house
to know that they hate being tickled
on the curves of their hips
or to know that you've placed countless kisses
upon their hopelessly chapped lips
but mostly it's just sad
to pass someone by
and to look at them knowing
that never again
will they stop to say hi
a poem I wrote a year and a half ago, found in a notebook, never put it up
