GoneA Poem by John ByrdHollow.
Numb.
I've felt like this every night since you left.
My bed is cold.
A tattoo of his name is on you
While a tattoo of your name is on my heart.
It doesn't make sense.
I really wish it did. © 2014 John Byrd |
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1 Review Added on August 15, 2014 Last Updated on August 15, 2014 |

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