Memories

-memories-
like lovely folded notes of secrets
we just couldn't keep to ourselves
cold fresh lead and ink spilled out every want and wish
and our eyes would light up to the sound of the giggles
or we would sigh at the frowns
I would get cold and feel your hands grab mine
I would drift into thought almost at the brink of a good cry
I’m 16 I shouted there's not much more than this
driving home at midnight with tears and shivering voices creasing through the warm summers air
there's not much more to happiness other than those past times
when laughing was everything
but, when I can't even remember the last time she and I laughed for no reason at all
I depend on those memories of our childhood when we knew no more than to just
laugh at ourselves

by victoria martinez

Comments (3)

A nice poetic imagination, victoria. You may like to read my poem, Love and Iust. Thanks
So simply stated, yet so wonderfully written. I enjoyed it.
I absolutely love it… :)