I never noticed the hands I was holding grew cold. It gave me a dream of getting together one day, growing old, something among the easy began to break. It grew in problems, then to one another. We became fake before I could save what you had become we fell apart to each other's wild notions to good reasoning we became numb now the other side of the bed was whispers it lies sometimes late at night it even cries. The monster in the mirror shows nothing but an honest smile
Rocío (Ro) Christensen
@rocio · 0:05
Thank you so much, as always, for sharing your poetry. I really enjoy listening to it