Ink-Cafe

An unfinished poem I just finished.

Opened the door, Tell me a little more, Stood by the frame, Let’s pretend it’s a game, But the games we used to play, They’re just memories of yesterday, So I’ll just pack them in my suitcase instead, And keep it hidden beneath my bed, But what about today? Here we are with nothing left [...]

He couldn’t write, Even if it could make things right, He couldn’t write, He couldn’t cry, Even though she thought him a lie, He couldn’t cry, Could it be any harder? Just tell me a lie, Faster! Faster! At least try? Just another day, Tomorrow? Today? Yesterday? Nay, It’s just another day.

Dressed in black, Our eyes met, Her mischievous smile, Promised it’ll be worthwhile, She took my hand, Desires of another man, The night’s full of promises, but only she deserves my kisses, I walked out into the cold, And wished she was here for me to hold, Promises of lust, I want something that lasts.