Pulsating
"Do you remember the days that I loved you?" His question reverberated in my mind — echoing like a broken record that rung my ears harshly. It was like a sound of a thousand dying cats scraping their nails on concrete. "Hardly." I say in a sly voice — bile rising in my throat. "But I remember the day you left. And the days after that."
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Evanescence (Poetry & Prose)
Poetrythere is so much i want to tell you, yet i have no voice to say. then words came to the rescue, and poetry has it all became. ➿ to all our constants who treated us as temporary ➿ Highest Rank: #6 in Literary & 3 in Short Poetry (tags) #11 in Broken...
