Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Dec 2016
You talk I'll type, no
that's not right
you’re not my dictator and
I'm not your scribe

I love you I hate you
neither seems right
get out of my head since
you're already out of sight

It was your fault it was mine
we laughed I cried
You said you'd be my sun, remember?
but I'd rather hug the night
Written by
Please log in to view and add comments on poems