I miss our moments.
When I'd be waiting for her
just so I could gasp a tiny scream
while I'd be running
into her arms.
When we would go to her apartment
to make heart-shaped paper
just so we could burn it together.
Her look that saw the real me
not this abomination I created
for normal people.
Our moments:
me, trapped in an elevator,
listening to music
silent screaming
fast running,
sleeping over.
They are all gone.
But at least she picked up the phone.
YOU ARE READING
Her
PoetryCompilation of poems about my favourite person in the world, I'm sure you have someone like her in your life. If not, just try to enjoy the poetry.
