Your hands were once mine to hold
Your eyes were once mine to be told
Your mouth was once mine to keep
With me in my sleep
Now everything is cold
Now everything is too hard to be told
Now everything seems to slip
Away from my trembling grip
I knew you were never mine to keep,
but God knows how many nights I'd wish you were
YOU ARE READING
Trinkets
PoetryIf you want to read without the commitment, this is the perfect book for you. You can open it and read a few excerpts once in a while, or you can read it in one go. The entries here have various themes which may confuse readers as it confused the wr...
