Everyday is a chapter I get to write.
Yet every page is blank,
Every memory's wiped
With every flip.
Almost like I hit reset...
Everyday.
Because the Sun don't shine
And the Moon don't rise
In a dusty closed book.
But if you took
A peekYou would look
And seeAll the nights and days she took,
From me
Now all I see is rain
Every page is wet
With the dew of pain
Her morning left
Or should I say..
....Her mourning dealt
YOU ARE READING
Lucid Dreams
PoetryPoetry as it is to me. Comments or thoughts are all welcome and please vote if you like it