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 Harry Sweeden. My life in verse.

geishacountrypoetpoetry759
Without a trace


Without a trace, our love affair now over
there is nothing left to warm me this night
only memories of your so soft skin
and your sweet lips that I kissed goodbye.
Nothing left to see, your clothes not here
only a fragrance of a perfume you wore
and empty picture frames that have no place
for a lifetime that died long before.
So many empty spaces, everywhere I go
not even a shadow of our love remains
…only hidden scars, that could never heal
now are with me for all of my days.








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