to gaze at wonderful colors in the morning light seems to be as shiny as his hair under the burning sun. a sip of coffee will not be bad, it will surely awaken the sleeping remembrance of your touch.
your embrace.
your laughs and your hugs.
maybe, it is a carved memory again, of an aching heart; overused blunts, or the melancholic rhymes in our melancholic nights.
YOU ARE READING
ninth avenue - poetry
Poetry__ heavenly bodies only know where you are now. maybe i was not holding on too tight as you slipped away. wasn't i still yours? __
