I hear youSpeaking to me from across the tableWhile my inner monologue drowns your voiceYou seem to be talking about some cousin of yoursAnd something about cross country callsMac lipstickBritish foods and FacebookYou tell me about the one time your mother sent you out for biscuitsThere were guests in the houseWait, or was it the …
I write to hold on to some of it : lingering thoughts, fleeting ideas, fading memories and love.
Rotten Peaches Poetry 