How do you measure love?Is it the number of times I pick up my pieces - little bits bouncing off the just cleaned floorWe’ve always been into drama that wayOr the count of times I hit the wall you’ve put up – there are no doors or windows, except for the times your eyes betray …
I write to hold on to some of it : lingering thoughts, fleeting ideas, fading memories and love.
Rotten Peaches Poetry 