It seemed true— but it was a lie,
the fact that we were together then,
was nowhere a reality.
It hurts to admit, so must I?
But to recall on the countless tears and sleepless nights, waiting for a call from someone who left before he even appeared.
But to recall on the countless breakdowns, waiting for someone who would come back and act like nothing has changed nor happened in between.
Does it ever really mean anything to him?
Does it ever even meant something?
YOU ARE READING
the Journey
ŞiirQuoting the phases of persona's childhood; composed over the years in her distressed journey of emotions- compiled in this book of short poems. Welcome to 'the Journey'.
