writing

come back to me

Strolling down 37th and first,

Hand in hand, yours were coarse.

For once, floating I was on a cloud,

Until it’s rain left me to drown.

 

I didn’t know the boat would tip,

I didn’t think the wind would quip.

In the start, the world was our stage,

Oh, how quickly the tides do change.

 

Now left I am searching for your clues,

Without my map or any cues.

You were my flame that ended doubt,

Who knew how quickly we’d be burnt out.

 

Strolling down 41st and third,

I searched your eyes for those three words.

I yelled as hands slipped through the cracks,

Begging, pleading, for you to come back

To me.

 

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