Wilted flowers in a vase
torn paper hearts.
I walk under those stars
we once claimed as ours.
These streets,
bring forward a memory flood,
swamping my mind.
Those streets,
we walked hand in hand
beside the towering tree line.
Every time I'm here
I sink. My thoughts become unclear,
like I'm floundering
in deep quicksand
and help is nowhere near.
In memories I see kisses
flying free through the air,
blown from you to me,
but the kisses were never real,
they looked the part
but they had a different feel,
and as they hit my skin,
each one struck like a
sucker punch to my guts,
they sink deeper
into my soul.
Remnants
of old love gone wrong.
Calendar ripped.
Months torn to bits.
Memories
sit in the scraps
littering the floor,
where we once danced
as we watched the sky roar.
Dates etched in the mind
pull tightly on every
nerve ending they find.
Scraping away
any good feelings
I once held inside,
leaving just rotten peelings
of the fruits of our time.
They never leave,
these constant reminders,
they've infiltrated
my music playlist,
took over my poetry binders.
They have set up traps,
for when I'm feeling at ease.
They pounce out of tv screens,
movies you've seen,
places you've been.
Every memory corrupted,
I slowly die inside.
Letting my feelings haunt
the other side.
Thanks for reading
Follow this link for more.
https://linktr.ee/Wordsandfluff
You can find my New books
"Tales from the 44A" and "Stations
here
https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B0DBKXPN13/
and here
continue to do this.
Peace, Love & Poetry
Kyle
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