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Rated: E · Poetry · Romance/Love · #1944099
This poem was inspired by other people's work, but all of it is mine.
I still cry,
In my bed, there I lie.
I think about him,
Happy, but grim.
Our love was like leaves in the fall,
So bright, before they lose it all.
And every night, I dream.
He is there,
Or so it seems.
And when I wake,
I see, there is no smiling face to comfort me.
So here I lie,
All alone.
Much like him,
When he left home.
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Printed from https://www.Writing.Com/view/1944099