Some prose I wrote back when I thought I was a writer, let me know what you think of it 
..............................................
Blankets Of Snow
And the stars hung down around are shoulders, as we listen to the beat of our own hearts, we were only a few feet from your house, but it felt like miles away, contrasted by the shade of the cool trees, I could count everyone of those stars, I love lamp and desk, and holding hands in the dark, laughter of children as it creates a full house. Curled up next to pillows, cause you're a foot away and I am already lost in your smile.
..............................................
Everyone is moving on...
...and she was there again, talking to me like she could care less, what I feel or think about her and the past. I walked past her, cause I'd seen right through her, and her scene. A teardrop, mascara stains lipstick smudges on burned out cigarettes. The chord tangles around my fingers as our conversation reaches the dial tone; a million miles away glass plates collide. Walking at night I could still hear, the beat of two sets of feet marching hand in hand to the sway of hips brushing against one another. Cheek to cheek kisses and warm bodies becoming one.
...And we pulled and pulled at each other's strings to single another shot in the dark
...............................................
Walk on by...
...she doesn't live here anymore, but you can feel her presence as you drink your morning coffee, good to the last drop. The screen door rests tiredly on its rustic hinges as it swings back and fourth, you appear out over your vacant lawn and realize this is the end. Set down the dream and move on with the day, it will come back to you, it always dose.
The abandon parking lot, across from your work where you used too met her after close, has become an occupied with other couples, as they sit on ceramic, breathing heavy in the winters air. It's become a hang out for all the lovers.... the parking lot's never looked the same.
...Once more you look behind you, waiting frost bitten hands around your pale neck.
You left your scarf at my place sweetie...
You try you best to walk on, find the warmth of a streetlight, or the embers of your second pack today. You think back to all those nights, and how this one is going to be another to throw on the fire...20 min walk home, takes hours.
.... The door is jarred to the right, as break down in tears....
Welcome home...it's been a while.
..............................................
Blankets Of Snow
And the stars hung down around are shoulders, as we listen to the beat of our own hearts, we were only a few feet from your house, but it felt like miles away, contrasted by the shade of the cool trees, I could count everyone of those stars, I love lamp and desk, and holding hands in the dark, laughter of children as it creates a full house. Curled up next to pillows, cause you're a foot away and I am already lost in your smile.
..............................................
Everyone is moving on...
...and she was there again, talking to me like she could care less, what I feel or think about her and the past. I walked past her, cause I'd seen right through her, and her scene. A teardrop, mascara stains lipstick smudges on burned out cigarettes. The chord tangles around my fingers as our conversation reaches the dial tone; a million miles away glass plates collide. Walking at night I could still hear, the beat of two sets of feet marching hand in hand to the sway of hips brushing against one another. Cheek to cheek kisses and warm bodies becoming one.
...And we pulled and pulled at each other's strings to single another shot in the dark
...............................................
Walk on by...
...she doesn't live here anymore, but you can feel her presence as you drink your morning coffee, good to the last drop. The screen door rests tiredly on its rustic hinges as it swings back and fourth, you appear out over your vacant lawn and realize this is the end. Set down the dream and move on with the day, it will come back to you, it always dose.
The abandon parking lot, across from your work where you used too met her after close, has become an occupied with other couples, as they sit on ceramic, breathing heavy in the winters air. It's become a hang out for all the lovers.... the parking lot's never looked the same.
...Once more you look behind you, waiting frost bitten hands around your pale neck.
You left your scarf at my place sweetie...
You try you best to walk on, find the warmth of a streetlight, or the embers of your second pack today. You think back to all those nights, and how this one is going to be another to throw on the fire...20 min walk home, takes hours.
.... The door is jarred to the right, as break down in tears....
Welcome home...it's been a while.
VIEW 9 of 9 COMMENTS
beautiful poetry.
<3