A fading memory of what
A fading memory of what once was, now a dying poet. Love has slipped through my fingers like running water. I sleep to dream and dream to sleep pushing life into my last rest.
This poem is about:
Me
Comments
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Alex_91
5 years ago
I came to this website by chance through a google image search for Quasars. The icon intrigued me so I stayed. Your title caught my eye. Your words felt like my own and all I could do was cry. I created an account just to tell you how beautifully constructed your thought was. Thank you for writing it. Have a nice day.
