Retired Writer
I used to write the perfect piece
that speaks volume than my lips;
its impact would bury deep within
the soul of one who dares to readI used to write the perfect song
that sounds better than my voice
it would creep down to your core
and disturb your sleeping soulI used to write the perfect piece
not until you came like a wave
taking every drop of this pen's ink
so I could no longer write the sameSo how do I write the way my heart used to
when the fuel I need was now taken by you?
ESTÁS LEYENDO
Metaphors Beneath the Riptides
Poesía"Your I-love-you was like a scribble in a sand- At first it was there then next it was not" Metaphors beneath the Riptides An Anthology By Eos Pleuvoir 2020 Cover Made with Canva