▲ 1 r/OCPoetry
What it Was
Walking with an unstretched hand
Cold air seeping into its wrinkles
Just slightly warmed by the lining of my jacket
The seat next to me occupied by a bag
Once filled with laughter
And wanting to miss another turn
I look up into an uninhabited sky
Lay on the grass, where our hair tangled together
Intertwined like what we thought of the future,
As my bitter hand clings to the hope our turn will come again
Comments:
u/Individual-Line2687 — 14 hours ago