I'm afraid that the days of driving
hot wheels cars over your bare legs
can be forgotten like every step you
take away from me.
I'm afraid that this summer meant
no more then our last kiss.
I'm afraid of losing you.
Author notes
First thoughts that came to mind.
A contest entry
- this is an interview. by Diseased Mind.
700 points, ended October 30, 2008, 19 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
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