The Mess of it All: A poem of loving remembrance

 

zerozero

It’s nights like these

that I think about every night

And it’s times like these

that I think about that fateful hour

And I don’t know why,

because with you I never cared about time

Hours could’ve been days,

and it all would have seemed the same

Maybe I should have loved you,

forgotten your flaws, your scars,

and the mess of it all

The blood on your face,

and my frantic hands on your dying heart

beating a such a deathly pace

Because of nights like these,

I remember you were

my all

 

 

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