She said, "It's already been three years. How long are you going to wait for him?
This October, leaves are going to shed, but my hope for him won't."
That vintage clock hanging on the wall of my room may stop, but my heartbeat for him won't.
Colors may fade, but my love for him won't.
I replied.
YOU ARE READING
poem for him
Poetryjust a poem I wrote for him but I know he'll never ever read this
