I wonder what happened that week.
That week you had all to yourselves.
That week you always talk about.
That week with long car rides,
with late movie nights,
with the lady bugs,
with the waffles,
with the hill,
with the shells,
with the dock,
with the sky,
with the confession,
with the cheese stick,
with the new sounds,
and smells,
and sights,
and all the variables that made up that place,
that will soon be constants to her.
I wish I was there that week,
with you two to experience all the laughs,
and the memories,
and everything.
But you deserve something you can keep to yourselves,
something you can keep from me.
So you can have that.
YOU ARE READING
maerdyad
PoésieI don't know, I just need to write stuff right now. When you thought you found the one, after all this time, after all the poeple that left, and it turns out, she loves someone else. For when the rain comes, and the hail, and all hell is unleashed, ...
