The boxes are piling against the door,
my clothes are strewn across the floor,
each fold holds the shadow of a time with you
every thread the touch of your skin
you smiled when I wore this dress
It lies balled up in a bag,
tight crumples,
violently creased
the creases,
and crumbles
and crying
I am wringing the tears from my heart
I am crying my love and it won't leave me
I am twisting it and it still will not tear
it sits in that bag
tightly crumpled.
Aug 26, 2012
Aug 26, 2012 at 1:30 PM UTC
The boxes are piling against the door,
my clothes are strewn across the floor,
each fold holds the shadow of a time with you
every thread the touch of your skin
you smiled when I wore this dress
It lies balled up in a bag,
tight crumples,
violently creased
the creases,
and crumbles
and crying
I am wringing the tears from my heart
I am crying my love and it won't leave me
I am twisting it and it still will not tear
it sits in that bag
tightly crumpled.
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