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
glad
that his eyes are not as empty
as mine.





© 2018 SleeplessVolcano



Author's Note

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

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Reviews

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 Week Ago



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

Author

SleeplessVolcano
SleeplessVolcano

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"In the end there doesn't have to be anyone who understands you. There just has to be someone who wants to". Robert Brault more..

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