Magazine, website & books written by teens since 1989

Two Hours After the Suicide

By
More by this author
Memories sift through fingertips
Like sand, and all we recall is
That of a beggar recalls—
Of a better life; of food;
Of upholstered furniture.
We forget what hides in nighttime’s
Sweetest secrets:
Legions of memories—laughing, dancing—
Waiting to be found.





Post a Comment

Be the first to comment on this article!

bRealTime banner ad on the left side
Site Feedback