at some point in life, you were my everything.
you were the sun.
the moon.
the air that i breathe.
the rain that i always craved in the summer.
but now,
you are not those things that complete me.
you were just a stranger--a living memory.
and even if i didn't want to, you were the wind.
and i was the dandelion, whom was forced to set myself free.
- m.m
YOU ARE READING
the dead poet's lover
Poetrythe very thought of you shatters me. and i am trying to fix myself once again.
