Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Jun 2023
Where are all those sparks
that enlivened our eyes
back when our words were tender
and our touches desperate?
What happens to your heart
when you hear songs from our nights?
Do dreams or nightmares rule your sleep?
Do you even sleep?
I find it difficult without the warmth of you.
But comfort is in my ago,
that vague time colored by optimism
and a bad brain.
Joe Workman
Written by
Joe Workman  37/M
(37/M)   
59
 
Please log in to view and add comments on poems