Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Dec 2014
I don't remember how you fingers felt through my hair on sunday mornings
I don't remember the colour of your skin against the bloodied tiles
I don't remember the dilation of your eyes as you confessed your love for me for the first time
I don't remember the way your eyes twinkled as you laughed
I don't remember you being happy
I don't remember being happy
I don't remember us the way we were supposed to be
bm
Written by
bm  merely drifting through
(merely drifting through)   
580
   Juneau
Please log in to view and add comments on poems