Dear you
Tonight it seems
like my poetry has
finally abandoned
me, leaving me
sink in the puddle
of your absence.
Tonight I see my
words dancing in
front of me to
tell me stories
of old tragic lovers,
teaching me love
instead of art.
Tonight my paper
slip under my pen,
and land into the
fireplace, eager to
taste the flames
more than my ink.
Tonight I look at
the stars and ask
them in silence,
if the days I spent
inscribing music
notes on your lips,
were a part of my
many hallucinations.
Tonight I find my
mind drifting off
to the moments
my eyes used to
awe at the shape
of your body, as
if it was a beautiful
island I had yet to
discover.
Tonight I'm in the
company of a
poem with no
beginning or an
end, for I'm a
lost poet without
your scent to
guide me.
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 .
