Some people or even chances,
we have to let go
with the thought of, maybe,
time will sculpture experiences in our soul,
new places and faces will engrave foundation
of knowing ourselves,
of being the top versions we so want to become
But now,
You're gone for good,
And we'll be meeting again, I know,
in some places so familiar to us,
in old faces we once knew,
This time, you'll stop by,
But you're not staying.
Maybe all this time,
We're just meant to cross the same paths,
You're not staying,
and I won't anymore,
and I just hope that you're happy.
YOU ARE READING
Plague Prosaic
PoetrySimple things, doesn't have to be right, doesn't have to be wrong, it just have to be. A 'kind-of' a journal about everything ordinary inside a mind so chaotic. All Rights Reserved ©Lazidoura 2021
