deepundergroundpoetry.com

it tastes like a memory, but looks like a dream

I miss the way love feels
pressed against my skin
electric and meaningful  
 
The memory of your hands
turn to ash  
and I'm left holding  
nothing more  
than the memory of a dream  
 
And I hate that I'm so empty  
every touch feels ghostly
and unreal  
 
Your heat turned cold
to whisper past on the breeze
like wayward leaves
that don't know how
to find their way home  
 
I miss the way you felt  
the way you touched  
the way you fucked  
 
I missed the way you loved me
when you loved me  
 
Before you set fire to my heart
and left me holding nothing but ash
 
© Indie Adams 2021
Indie
Written by Indie (Miss Indie)
Published
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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PoetSpeak Bluevelvete airhugs AutumnLeaves
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