she was poetry
on coffee stained
napkins.
he was a crocked
smile and ripped
jeans.
with words that
sink in the depths
of silence, like
tucked letters in
a folded paper,
she spoke .
his voice would
ring in your ears
like the sound of
an electric guitar
that can't go
unheard.
and while she
spent her
evenings sipping
on warm tea,
and catching rain
drops, he scorched
his lungs with the
burning smoke of
cigarettes; each
puff for every
promise he broke.
they don't belong
in each other's
arms, yet when
it gets dark, their
parallel paths
cross, for every
night, she sees
the galaxies she's
been searching
for stand on the
tips on his fingers,
while he watches
the stars he used
to wish upon
collapse into her
lap.
YOU ARE READING
Dried petals
Poetry"and I find myself tucking your smile in the space that lies between every letter .for babe , if I can't keep you by my side ,then I'll lock you in each poem these hands write down ."_Aya Highest rank #43 in poetry on 23/7/2017 .
