the coffee-stained picture of us tells stories
stories of misery,
pain
but isn’t that what love is all about?
the coffee stained your face
like the alcohol to your mind
i can’t see you in the picture
i don’t see you in the picture anymore
its hidden on the pocket of my heart
the pocket that I swore,
i swore it wouldn’t fade
but I forgot your voice,
your face,
your eyes
it did fade.
and you knew it would.
liar.
they wont come.
who cares?