Sunday, September 13, 2015

Mist

The last time I saw him,
he said he loved me
For the first time ever.
He never told me.
He mouthed the words out.
As if the taste of those words would hurt me.
As if the spite and rage and anger and hurt would make stay.
As if the bitterness of the sound would burn his mouth.
But that's okay.
I am gone.
Gone like the mist.

2 comments:

  1. Great blog! I loved your poem. :D
    Also, we have the same taste in music!! :D Those were all my fav songs.

    ReplyDelete
  2. Great blog! I loved your poem. :D
    Also, we have the same taste in music!! :D Those were all my fav songs.

    ReplyDelete

Feel free to leave me a comment! I would love them!