Memories

Dark ink form sinister patterns

 Of words no longer heard

Spill your truth like blood

Like moth to a flame

It is memories of me

Reaching for you

 

Broken glass,

Broken trails

As I breathe empty promises

The melodies born from rain

 

You were my island-

I was the storm

Reviews

[Shaquana Adams]

This is so sad.

"You were my island-
I was the storm"

I love this depiction of lost love. Great job :)