They don’t believe us

I don’t have answers to

“Surely you must have a picture of him?

Or an old t-shirt pf his?

His grandfather’s old watch?

Or a perfume he brought for your birthday?

A locket with a pendant that says something sweet?

Or perhaps a ring engraved?”

“No,” I tell them

“I don’t have any of these.”

They ask me, “Then what kind of love is that?”

They don’t believe me.

They don’t believe us.

It doesn’t bother me

Not in the least.

For I feel the warmth of your hand in mine

All the time


4 thoughts on “They don’t believe us

Your thoughts?

Please log in using one of these methods to post your comment: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s