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on my white horse




the smoke from his
last cigarette gets
tangled in my curls
and I carve my words
into the inside of his
cheek.

I find him in the
most truthful place
of my being
while the streetlights
flicker and I can't seem
to remember the last
person that remembered
me the way I wanted to
be remembered.



I tell him I
want to be a
beautiful
poet for him but,
I originally started
this off with
"me, myself,
and him."





and after that
my smile was
big enough for
that to actually
be enough.

















Author notes

ask if you don't get how it fits the prompt.

yourhandsyourhands--

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Comments


  • youhadme-athello.
    November 5
    Edit | Reply
    i love this
    its beautiful.

  • soundwave -
    November 4

    Edit | Reply
    i think i get how it fits the prompt. but i don't really care because this is amazing. the second stanza is breathtaking.
    i'm so glad you entered this. thanks.