tears that want to cry them selves for you and fall to the floor
dry at the end of my brown lashes never spilling
words that want to cry out to you begging you not to leave my side
fade on my washed out pink lips dying as whispers
a touch that wants to hold you in place and make you remember falling in love
turns cold on my rough finger tips making yo feel nothing
the look that wants to seek out your eyes only to force them to see me in true light
darkens to blindness in the depths of liquid green.
Author notes
AMAS VERITAS
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