They say time heals all, but time only forms a scum on the memories, when stirred they pour out fresh as when they were made. I can pretend I don't want you I have perfected the art of confusing you but I'm not so bright I can tell you the bald-faced lie -I don't want to see you- though you ask if I hate you and I only smile.Birth sign: Aquarius
You need to log in to edit this poem if it is yours.
View more poems by Richard Willems.