Sunday, September 20, 2015

attack of the memories

the warmth of his side
lingers with mine
just a boy in a drunken stupor

ended up here by chance
he won't ask me to dance
because he doesn't know that I want to

eyes coffee and warm
inside them a perfect storm
called me the love of his life

but as the night faded
as I waited and waited
nothing came for me but strife

never meant what he whispered
his words hit me and still hurt
this is the end of our story

I may see him again soon
hear his voice across an empty room
but I'll be too caught up in the mourning

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