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Memories in my attic

Memories in my attic

A Poem by SleeplessVolcano

My house has a blue roof now
It was there
where my blood
spilled into words
crying out to you

It is always fall in my street
your words
used to bring spring 
but now
I only have cold winds
and scattered leaves

A beggar now sleeps
on that bench in the park where we met
sometimes I feel like him
as if I am homeless without you
then he looks at me and smiles
that his eyes are not as empty
as mine.

© 2018 SleeplessVolcano

Author's Note

Image = Painting by Georges Guerin - Montmartre-rue-abreuvoir

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Such sadness...... spilling out of this one....almost made me want to cry....

Mmm only thing that made me smile is you got a blue roof house.... you seem to be turning out to be champ at finding pics... :))

Posted 1 Year Ago

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1 Review
Added on February 8, 2018
Last Updated on February 8, 2018



"In the end there doesn't have to be anyone who understands you. There just has to be someone who wants to". Robert Brault Art washes away from the soul the dust of everyday life. ~ Pablo Pica.. more..