....
A blaze took the house,
& there sits a man
With a burnt journal,
One sided talks..,
Beautiful, curling wisps of smoke
Her shape is a ghost behind..
for a moment
and it is empty...
blinding me to everything.
A wasted dream.
...
Me her ...tears/love?
By alirevenom
Dear reader Ever wondered what Love really meant... well the following poems are written for her by a strange... More