Coming to this place
Reminds me of what we used to be.
I sit in my old room,
The one that witnessed first hand
Our initial spark.
Sitting on this bed
Reminds me of the nights
We spent together,
Sneaking you out before dawn.
Standing in that little mirror
Reminds me of the photos
We’d take,
Our echoing laughs happier than ever.
Everything i touch
Has a memory of you.
And maybe that’s why
It’s so hard to stay
And even harder to leave.
Jan 19, 2019
Jan 19, 2019 at 11:44 PM UTC
Coming to this place
Reminds me of what we used to be.
I sit in my old room,
The one that witnessed first hand
Our initial spark.
Sitting on this bed
Reminds me of the nights
We spent together,
Sneaking you out before dawn.
Standing in that little mirror
Reminds me of the photos
We’d take,
Our echoing laughs happier than ever.
Everything i touch
Has a memory of you.
And maybe that’s why
It’s so hard to stay
And even harder to leave.