Maybe there's a cruel mercy
in the cold trailing behind you
as you leave me in your wake
Maybe there's something in the air
bitter enough to jolt me awake
and start looking for the roses
growing in your footprints
Maybe you were never truly here
just a phantom lover I could call mine
but whose essence always escaped me
Maybe you were my everything and nothing
my wayward prince crowned with thorns
equal halves desire and disgust
I wonder, maybe
this is the way I inhabite your memories
too
YOU ARE READING
Old Words
PoetryA collection (and selection) of my old poetry. If you want to read some of my more recent work, check out The Magic Of Poetry, An Abundance Of Haiku or Bright.
