The world is silent;
The night is numb.
All I hear are the persistent whispers:
You are gone.
You are gone.
I ask the trees:
When will he be?
And they reply:
Maybe he'll return with the leaves.
My feet are glued to the patio
The leaves begin to grow and absorb a color the shade of green.
Where is he?
I call to the trees
I think he took a piece of me.
They frown down upon me,
Sadness shiver like waves to my knees.
The call out to me:
Like the seasons,
I don't think he was yours to keep.
YOU ARE READING
Poems
Poetry"I know that sometimes for people, I feel like too much; But let me kiss away the phantom pain that the scars remind you of, Let me kiss the burns on your hands, From when you touched the burning fire within my soul. Let me show you that yes, I am...
