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Jan 2018
What's a slippery sorrow
I asked his memory
Thinking fast he took my past
And gave it back to me

I couldn't think
I couldn't speak
Just clutch my treasures
Warmish peak

He looked a little wretched
But I did not suspect
Picking hard and fast I found
His personality prospect

What little words I said to him
Were sewn into my face
And every time I smile they're there
Confusing musings lost in space

I'm happy so, I'm happy so
Though words are poor projectors
Sorry for this muddle mate
I'm simple simple simple simple
I wrote this one without pausing or thinking, so it's muddled
Sombro
Written by
Sombro
281
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