PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

If i wanted you to know,

i'm sure it would show,

but then i'd go six feet below,

and end up cold as snow,

cause i went through love before,

yet still i thrive for more,

even when all doors close,

i still want you behind the slammed door i suppose,

counted the months since you left me on my fingers then toes,

quickly ran out of limbs to count on, oh no!

now i suppose i'll have to grow mean,

or smart enough to build a time machine,

it's a different kind of hurt i still get from you,

like you were innocent and still i hung you,

it's in my damn longues too, i breathe our memories,

and exhale all the hurt as carbon monoxide enemies.