I'm sorry if I'm dead. I'm sorry if I'm not living. I don't cry, not much, but my eyes go stale. The shine is lost and you are gone but these memories never fade. Words and this world flay. Your ghost hunts and slays. I don't know why, but this world seems gray. With colors, I sit and paint.
Drowning dusk, every stroke is about you. The colors are sober but are enraged without you. I painted the universe, but it was all about you. Those fiery eyes, the rainbow shreds, and everything leaves with your lies.
Out in the sun, I met someone else. Felt like believing, I felt I was living. She had those feint stares and that crimson hair. I think it was a dream and nothing was true. Her face was glazed with a creamy white hue. I looked into her eyes, and I never knew. In everything, I can always find you. Why is it so? You are there in everything I knew. Even though you're gone, why do I still love you?
YOU ARE READING
Lost In Me
Poetry"Medicine, law, business, engineering, these are all noble pursuits, and necessary to sustain life. But poetry, beauty, romance, love, these are what we stay alive for." ― Dead Poet's Society Holding all my thoughts, presenting a collection of poems...
