Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Jun 2015
I use to be envious
of those who say
they don’t fall in love,
of those who can control
their emotions.
But then,
what a colorless life.
I fall as hard as a tree,
every time.
A new face, a new love, a new shade
of sensation that I chase
like butterflies in a meadow.
And when it’s over,
my life feels like a storm of disappointment
only to see the sun peak over the clouds
with hope.
I used to be envious
of those who never dealt with the storms.
But then, they never got to see the sun either.
Elisa Holly
Written by
Elisa Holly  DALLAS
(DALLAS)   
811
   Ambient Destruction, --- and Karen
Please log in to view and add comments on poems