Pieces of you cling to day.
I see you in the edge of vision.
It is night when you come home to me.
Yet when you speak, I cannot listen.
Nov 10, 2016
Nov 10, 2016 at 9:18 PM UTC
Pieces of you cling to day.
I see you in the edge of vision.
It is night when you come home to me.
Yet when you speak, I cannot listen.
Request permission to use this poem