NN Header

Monday, 6 June 2016

Poem: Of Rusty Kisses

The seasons smell like rust- 
The faint metallic dew of the rain, 
The memories of you seem like dust, 
Pixellating in my mind. 

The past swirls together with time, 
Forming a mess, and do we dwell? 
I guess not, not me... 
Oh, when was it we'd last kissed? 

copyright © 2016 thearcticstar

No comments:

Post a Comment