Cold HandsA Poem by LostandForgotten
Every thing grew dark,
The air was cold with a bitter twinge of regret.
And the hand that once held mine gone, lost, nearly forgoten.
The promises we made became dust in the wind,
and the laughter an empty echo of yesterday.
I've lost my way and so have you.
Wandering on in search of happiness we may never reach.
Strangers now, gone, lost. nearly forgotten, but never quite.
© 2012 LostandForgotten
AboutI don't really know what to call what I write other than s**t that spews out of my mind. any help is welcomed if its polite. more..