Will you still miss me,
In front of the cracked mirrors,
And the burnt fingers,
Hovering over the melted pool of wax?
Will you still miss me,
To be woken from the dreams,
Only to plunge into nightmares,
Seeing the decayed beneath the gloss?
Will you still miss me,
To stack the shelves of thoughts,
With happier memories of us,
Especially on days without warmth?
For I will still think of you,
Though thinking may not be missing,
And the images have started to take on,
A grainy quality meant for fading over time...
Copyright © 2016 thearcticstar
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