Original: March 29, 2018
I can’t stop dreaming about you,
Though you are gone.
And that is the problem,
I’m still holding on.
Dead flowers,
What I’m left with every time.
A note that says you’re mine.
All lies.
Dead flowers
A verse spoken now,
And a verse spoken then,
Both fall from my lips,
Not yours, but mine.
Of me, you will not speak,
And don’t dare to think,
Because I am free.
I am not ours.
YOU ARE READING
Collection of Poetry
PoetryOriginal poetry by yours truly. Please no plagiarism! These pieces, while they may be mediocre mean a lot to me. Thank you for the support!
