She takes the time to read the stories
her own in fact, her joys and worries,
She digs through the box full of pictures and cards
She has a gifted pin, a gifted keychain and a fluffy heart.
But the reason for her reminiscing is this.
There is someone in here that she truly miss.
She had recorded him in words from years ago,
Some still engraved in her mind like a logo.
She remembers the piano, she remembers the song
She remembers their jokes and late night phone calls.
It's like he had inked himself permanently on her skin,
No one can remove it, not even him.
If she saw him again, he'd bring her back,
back to the memories that they had.
The issue in this I'm afraid
It's been years now
It won't be the same.
YOU ARE READING
guns and bullets
PoetryThe pen was the gun. Her words, the bullets. A collection of poetry I wrote when life happened.
