Hello Poetry
Submit your work and get some sparkles! Create free account
Edward-ColesPoems
These streets are postcards. Moments of my youth, My loves. Each park bench enveloped within, Licked and pressed to My forehead. Return me to those times. I want my streets back. My memories Present and my friends Still readied for me. Pour moi. Pour me another drink Whilst I forget the ones I had. Red wine has long since replaced My blood, My skin; gone stale. The streets press in on My chest. I can’t breath for the dizzy memoirs, Yowling at the moon in My brain. The simple sway of a tyre swing, You and I, The chains. The simple fog of your ice machine, You and I, The cider. The simplicity of you and me, You and me, The years. These streets are ghost ships now. Bounty once abound, now gutted. Do not tease me with your platitudes Oh town, And just let me be on my way.
0
Aug 9, 2013
Aug 9, 2013 at 8:09 PM UTC
Small Town
These streets are postcards. Moments of my youth, My loves. Each park bench enveloped within, Licked and pressed to My forehead. Return me to those times. I want my streets back. My memories Present and my friends Still readied for me. Pour moi. Pour me another drink Whilst I forget the ones I had. Red wine has long since replaced My blood, My skin; gone stale. The streets press in on My chest. I can’t breath for the dizzy memoirs, Yowling at the moon in My brain. The simple sway of a tyre swing, You and I, The chains. The simple fog of your ice machine, You and I, The cider. The simplicity of you and me, You and me, The years. These streets are ghost ships now. Bounty once abound, now gutted. Do not tease me with your platitudes Oh town, And just let me be on my way.
Edward-Coles
Written by
Edward-Coles
26/M/English
Aug 9, 2013
Aug 9, 2013 at 8:09 PM UTC
Request permission to use this poem