Back to My Writings
A figure traced in wet sand
The silhouette of a broken angel
I know you'll be gone when the tide comes
Patient and solemn as you take another breath under the water
A crude undertow smearing your face and hair
I can taste the salt water that is filling up inside your lungs
I can feel you weeping on your way to the open sea
And all I had to do was love you
Hosted by www.Geocities.ws

1