Bed still warm, marks on my neck
I still hear your laugh in my head
I must admit it, I'd never guessed
You couldn't handle being loved -too much of a mess
YOU ARE READING
The Mind Of A Writer - Poetry Collection
PoetryI was bare-skinned, and so was he - hidden behind the lines of poetry ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... My second poetry book. Deeply personal yet I hope some of you might be able to relate.
