I thought you were like wine
Over time, you were getting fine.
Maybe that's one of the reasons for I thought that you were mine.
But doesn't the aged wine taste sweeter?
Yet, you tasted bitter.
Unbeknownst to me, that you were never said to be mine.
You were not becoming any fine.
You were just a symbol of crime
Which I've committed by trusting in you over time.
I waited in line,
To make you mine.
Little did I knew,
That I was just a waste of time for you.
YOU ARE READING
My poems
Poesía"Writers Bleed on Paper...." Yea,That's true....they bleed their most painful and unknown truths which are somewhere deep inside the darkest corner of your heart, your mind which can never be forgotten.... These are some of my painful Truths in the...
