She dies.
But I go on, sort of.
I get my license and a car.
But I stick to her grave.
Seasons come and seasons go,
and I'm tending to that grave.
It ends with her sister and our friend trying to wake me up.
I've died beside her grave.
YOU ARE READING
Her. (rough draft)
PoetryThis author has gone through the most brutal breakup she's ever endured, she needs an outlet. Enjoy
Dreams
She dies.
But I go on, sort of.
I get my license and a car.
But I stick to her grave.
Seasons come and seasons go,
and I'm tending to that grave.
It ends with her sister and our friend trying to wake me up.
I've died beside her grave.