With each passing day
The contours of your face become hazy,
Less prominent
And fade away.
I can't seem to remember how your lips
Curled at the edges when you smiled,
Or when your eyes sparkled with glee.
I feel it, but the picture in my mind
Slowly fades away,
A memory, slipping from my mind.
- Robes of a Muse
No comments:
Post a Comment