Memories
The memories of you haunt this place,
Everywhere I turn I envision your face,
Smiling and laughing at my expense, these memories of you make me tense,
That day I lived was the day you died,
While I was left unharmed you burned alive,
The place you haunt was once our home, but now it’s just ash and bone,
The walls are charred, the ceiling caved in,
Where you once stood nothing remains,
All that is left are the memories
And my pain.
👁 3💬 0
Something wrong with this poem?
Replies are closed for this poem.
If you or someone you know is struggling, you are not alone.
988 Suicide & Crisis Lifeline — call or text 988, 24/7. Crisis Text Line — text HELLO to 741741.
Your Poem's Voice
See what makes your poem unique — its voice, energy, themes, and the literary traditions it draws from.
Comments (0)
Comments are closed for this poem.