Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Mar 2020
She speaks to me
And I tell her things
That normally shut most people out
And others, well they're not listening

Her eyes sparkle sometimes in photographs
Mine tired, always bloodshot
And I think it's a relief to see her smile
But those thoughts remain.. thoughts

Friend? No I don't think so..
But neither am I all round the year
But we talk on blue moons and Mondays
Silly secrets, dumb decisions and foolish fears

We've given each other little spaces,
little places to go to
But the roads to take us there have long been gone
And we end up failing to get through.
twists and turns? Nah gimme cuts and burns.
Written by
chitragupta  25/M/India
Please log in to view and add comments on poems