little poems · Uncategorized

Storm

The ruins of our souls
as they slip through the sands of time
like your last touch as it slips through hands of mine
these hands they have been empty since
barren like those once merry fields
silent and blank, they forgot what love feels
it wasn’t silk, nor flowery…
it was like the thunderstorms,
dark with brilliant strokes of light.
The ruins of us, you and me,
the storm that we could be.

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