PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

I sit with the wind streaming through the door

she gets another phonecall I wonder what it's for

I took mine off this morning

there's no one i want to talk to...

I just sit with the wind streaming through the door...



Pain opened my eyes to a new feeling

the aftermath of our demise has no feeling

I sit with the wind streaming through the door

I hope that in life I learn what this was for...



till then baby,



Fuck you

and Your artificial ways

Fuck you

for that continental gaze

how could I believe that it was love



Fuck you

for entering my space

Fuck you

and your condescending taste

who am i to think that i was in love.