Words that I often don't even remember
I wonder if these of teal ink and hot April hold anything
If only to a distant me that time will someday pass too
Or if they are stories told and forgotten
Sitting on pages with scribbled dates
At the beggining of my book
At the back of my memory
Buried by their own epic poem
May 9, 2014
May 9, 2014 at 11:14 PM UTC
Words that I often don't even remember
I wonder if these of teal ink and hot April hold anything
If only to a distant me that time will someday pass too
Or if they are stories told and forgotten
Sitting on pages with scribbled dates
At the beggining of my book
At the back of my memory
Buried by their own epic poem
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