Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Jun 2014
You wouldn't want rememberance of the end but it's always here clouding the back of my mind

I can hear the beeps of machines and the way your laugh has weakened

I can feel your yellowed skin that is cold at the touch

I can smell that distinctive scent that comes along with hospitals, rubbing alcohol and old people

I can see the hope that left everyone's eyes when we recieved word

It was a hell of a fight
My aunt would have been 56 today. I still see her in myself and hope she does too. I miss her everyday. RIPβ™₯
Written by
Lauren  ontario
(ontario)   
895
 
Please log in to view and add comments on poems