deepundergroundpoetry.com
the box
i put the last picture of us in your own little box,
and tuck it into my bookshelf to collect dust;
the moments are clouded with stale ciggarette smoke,
but i can still hear your voice clearly;
"the time has come,
to say our goodbyes."
and tuck it into my bookshelf to collect dust;
the moments are clouded with stale ciggarette smoke,
but i can still hear your voice clearly;
"the time has come,
to say our goodbyes."
Published 29th Jan 2010
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29th Jan 2010 2:37am
... in a little verse from which a big untold story emerges - which makes for a cool read.
21st Feb 2010 3:14am
