the guitar riff
strums my heartstrings ,
plucking and letting go
with the soft unmarred hands of a child.
time turns one last time
before this memory too,
fades
as half of my essence had before.
leaving my marred hand
with no story.
Jun 19, 2020
Jun 19, 2020 at 1:13 PM UTC
the guitar riff
strums my heartstrings ,
plucking and letting go
with the soft unmarred hands of a child.
time turns one last time
before this memory too,
fades
as half of my essence had before.
leaving my marred hand
with no story.
the child is a past self.
I am so scared of growing up and forgetting all these tiny miniscule details of the whole picture which is my life. I seem to be forgettinng everything, every story and i don't want to grow old with a hazy memory of what i used to be before.