Do you remember the story behind that picture
The picture of the night you said you would never forget
And you honestly thought you wouldn't
But lately that memory seems to have faded
And the edges of that picture are crinkled and worn
And you can't seem to trust your brain with that kind of detail anymore
Because frames don't hold memories
They only hold a captured moment
YOU ARE READING
Flowers Under My Skin
PoetryA series of original short poems written through my perspective.
