#biy
Somedays,
I can still smell,
The scent of your perfume.
Somedays,
I can still feel,
A sense of your presence.
Someday,
Maybe i'll realise,
Why i keep telling these lies.
Till then, i'll just,
close my eyes,
keep searching,
Where the answer,
To our questions lies.
Jun 19, 2020
Jun 19, 2020 at 1:54 AM UTC
The door closed behind us,
your father had given you
the layout of what
you were permitted to do
and what not.
As we walked along the path
into town, you said:
after the film if my parents
are out, maybe we can.
Can what?
I said.
Can do things,
you replied.
The evening air
was sharp as a blade,
the moon hung above us
like a bright coin.
Bit risky,
I said,
what if they come back
while we are doing things.
You worry too much,
you said.
If your father came back
and caught you doing things
you'd be scared
and worried,
I said.
But that makes it exciting,
you said.
We walked past
the parish church
lit up by lights,
walked past old gravestones
the names and dates
almost gone.
We'll be like that
one day,
you said,
be out of it,
be nothing,
be dead.
We walked up the street
looking at street lights
lit up all ahead.
Feb 17, 2018
Feb 17, 2018 at 3:53 AM UTC