I walk through
the old and broken street.
Where we used to run,
where we used to meet.
I'd hold your hand
with a smile on my face.
I now walk alone,
my hand longing for your embrace.
Remember back then?
where we only thought
of our thoughts.
where we only dreamt
of only dreams.
Oh to look back,
such a bittersweet feeling.
oh nostalgia,
the fondness and pain you're giving.
YOU ARE READING
'𝗠𝗲𝗮𝗱𝗼𝘄 𝗼𝗳 𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗱𝘀'
Poetry-𝒆𝒂𝒄𝒉 𝒖𝒏𝒊𝒒𝒖𝒆 𝒇𝒍𝒐𝒘𝒆𝒓 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒑𝒊𝒄𝒌 𝒇𝒓𝒐𝒎 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒎𝒊𝒍𝒍𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒔 𝒍𝒂𝒚𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒂𝒎𝒐𝒏𝒈 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒎𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒐𝒘 𝒍𝒊𝒆𝒔 𝒂 𝒔𝒕𝒐𝒓𝒚 𝒚𝒆𝒕 𝒕𝒐 𝒃𝒆 𝒕𝒐𝒍𝒅 ------------------------ be warned that this story is written by a 14 y...
