Hello Poetry
Submit your work and get some sparkles! Create free account
It burns a little, And it never goes away. There's a nagging feeling, Maybe this is the end. The beginning of a new chapter, Beginning of a new book. If it was fiction, It wouldn't burn so much. Going back in time, Into blurry late nights. Drunken fumblings, And no success. Inbetween the darkness, I looked into the day. The sun was shining, While we lay in bed. In your bed we lay. I was awake, Looking at the sunlight. You slept through the day. That's where it started, Where something corrupted. Drugs and free love, Are best left to the movies.
0
May 5, 2011
May 5, 2011 at 4:29 PM UTC
Still Burns
It burns a little, And it never goes away. There's a nagging feeling, Maybe this is the end. The beginning of a new chapter, Beginning of a new book. If it was fiction, It wouldn't burn so much. Going back in time, Into blurry late nights. Drunken fumblings, And no success. Inbetween the darkness, I looked into the day. The sun was shining, While we lay in bed. In your bed we lay. I was awake, Looking at the sunlight. You slept through the day. That's where it started, Where something corrupted. Drugs and free love, Are best left to the movies.
cinnam-muscat
Written by
May 5, 2011
May 5, 2011 at 4:29 PM UTC
Request permission to use this poem