The thrill of the past,
Resides in the crimson of me.
Of the memories,
That have waded through time..
For so long.
You exist like the overgrown
Weed, weak enough to be left behind.
I have no use of you.
Except for a few tears ,
re-existing the salvation.
Of the nights and the days,
of the heat and the sweat,
of the breath and the gaze.
You , you and you
It was always about you
Did ‘we’ exist ever ?
3 comments:
let me don my wise hat and say... let go. :)
go drool over brad pitt/jhonny depp/clive owen.
it helps. :)
hahaha, thank you wise lady. take care
-Delphian Oracle
oh and by the way, This is an old old poem..hahaha !
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