Poetry

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Theirs always some reason to feel not good enough
they float around in my heart
running from hotel room to hotel room
hiding certain scars & exposing the easy ones

Everywhere they turn is another close call, another pointless event
and through all of this mess… all this chaos I can still hear you calling
I can hear the sadness in your exhales as you search for me

Are you just words in a book?
Are you only history?

Because that’s all I feel you as…
your touch seems to implanted under everyones skin but my own…
your love (in my own mind) has missed me tonight
I left no mark on my door but still death passed by… why?

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