Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Aug 2013
The memories creep up on me, latching in like vines into the rough weathered walls of brick
growing thick
a tangled mess I seem to find myself all to often caught within
these fingers still remember your skin
how they ache and tremble
feels as if my hands break and re-assemble
into the very shape and mold
I used when I would hold
your hands
The memories creep up on me, tainting my dreams with false hopes of a prosperous tomorrow
I would beg, steal or borrow
the memories of another to wash my mind's sheets clean of the stains you left haunting
I'd wipe it all clear move forward never wanting
the smooth feel of your lips upon my own
The memories creep up on me, every time that I'm alone...
Sean C Johnson
Written by
Sean C Johnson  AK
Please log in to view and add comments on poems