I worry if I'll be the last person
She leans on.
The last person she calls upon.
She has no one,
And I have everyone.
How different we are,
Yet we see the same burning star.
Will I be the last person she talks to?
The only person who truly knew?
I know everything that she's going through,
Yet, it is only I who
Chooses to say nothing.
YOU ARE READING
As Time Slows Around Us [Poetry]
PoetryAs complicated as time itself, like the silent conversations with the moon and sun, lie the complexity of the screaming but silent thoughts of the stars. "All that we see or seem is but a dream within a dream." ...
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