I torture myself with questions,
Of endless possibilities.
Is there another you,
In another life,
That loves another me?
Thinking of things that weren't,
That never were.
Images etching themselves
Across the heavens,
Of things that couldn't be.
I fantasize about fragments.
The softness of your skin,
Your smell, the corner of your smile.
Your touch, your taste.
Things that aren't reality.
I love you in my mind,
Trapped by obsession.
Darkest recesses come to light.
The never was.
Times gone, slipped from possession
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Author:
siranswerer (
Offline) - Published: May 14th, 2021 19:10
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 48
- User favorite of this poem: A Boy With Roses.
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Comments2
There is a theory that there are an infinite number of parallel universes where all possibilities are happening.
Andy
Exactly what i was going for.
Such thoughts make you the poet that you are and will become.
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