Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Oct 2014
The way you talk is like the morning silence
The way I walk is on a tightrope made of spider silk
None of them will remember your name
years from now but I will
And I used my whitest black
To paint you a portrait of me
But I didn't know you well enough
To know what I should be
About a chance I had that I took
And there was so much potential
So I decided to risk it
But I got hurt
Because I didn't know what to be
To be perfect
Ember Evanescent
Written by
Ember Evanescent  I live In books + my mind
(I live In books + my mind)   
Please log in to view and add comments on poems