Fold and Tuck

“I am molded by your will, when I fold and tuck good memories, they just become squared versions of your face. When I write poetry, the broken metaphors spell your name.
You think I’m holding on, but you’re so numb, that you don’t feel the grip of my words. Love, I’m searing into your psyche. But look how you think it’s you. How many more times are you going to leave, before this absence starts to weigh on my conscious. Your rhythm is as steady as  that of the waves. Oh, darling, how you tease the shore, before you leave”


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