Black Coffee and Grey Stories

I think

Demons live under my bed

Especially the ones I want to forget.

I think

Pain has scarred my soul

For while I smile a clock is ticking in my head.

I think

Memory is a curse

Yet I use it to guide the writer in me.

I think

Speaking my truth is a curse

Yet I find peace standing alone.

I think

Closure is a myth

For I will forever be waiting to reunite.

I think

Evolving is the key

To be loved and respected.