Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
May 2018
Cut,
but not until the root.
That would be compassion.
There has to be a few pieces left,
so it doen't stop hurting,
so you don't stop remembering.
He gets out of your life and conversations,
but not from your memory.

That music will always make you remember him,
so will that place,
that nickname,
that smile.

You really don't know what happened
but, in the end,
there was nothing,
only this bitter memory
trapped inside you.
at some point it won't hurt anymore
Written by
Ana Sophia  16/F/Brazil
(16/F/Brazil)   
120
   Edmund black
Please log in to view and add comments on poems