Who was he?
Without a name; he was my sky.
He took my heart, without a name,
Left scars on it as if it were a game
as to who could hurt me most.
He placed it back gently,
As if it were a precious gem that he had beaten so badly,
As if being gentle now would fix the previous roughness of his cold hands.
He placed it back gently and left so much to be desired
by me, his moon without a name.
Anonymous.
(L. E. OC)
BẠN ĐANG ĐỌC
Midnight Hearts and Broken Conversations.
Thơ CaA collection of personal poems that I think could be related to, appreciated and interpreted differently by everyone. Every poem has a story behind it. Whether these stories were bad or good, a piece of poetic work was the outcome. It helped me to...
