Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Dec 2018
The hands of the clock pierced through me
Akin to a sword sharp and trenchant
Every passing hour brings me to malady
My mind descends to naught each and every vanishing month.

They say antidote is the time
Mending the affliction of memories pernicious
But it's a venom, bane and crime
Extending my heart's hole cause by reminisce infectious.
The time didn't stitch my wounded heart. It perhaps created a bigger hole.
pistachio
Written by
pistachio  F/Philippines
(F/Philippines)   
322
   Neuvalence
Please log in to view and add comments on poems