where are they: a short story
I feel as if– when I die, I wish to go somewhere where the souls of my loved ones rest.
I would storm into every room, nook, and cranny- just to find them.
I would also fight whoever I have to- just to see them, yelling "where are they?"
And when I find them- I will cry.
Because I missed them so damn much.
a.b.
YOU ARE READING
Tarnished Beauty
PoetryYou and I, we have different stories and that's what makes us all individually unique. This is just a continuation of mine- where I try and fix myself, relapsing along the way. I hope this gives you hope or whatever you need to survive.
