Digital drawing · poetry · Portraits

A cold summer

. . . that blew in of a mid morning ‘s spring.

The mist went in my lips,

as of your kiss once upon 7 years removed.

The wind gust hushed me in a cradle,

I became once again vulnerable with her love;

that will never compare into any one’s.

Then I got a call,

from a memory and telling me,

I wanted to know,

why did you love me;

and left me then, coz I still do.

😏🆒😭🆕😾🆙

©oam

®artsydhude 97-18

™XENOphagz

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