i knew that when i woke you would be gone
too close, too high, too late to hold your breath
i felt it in the quiet of the dawn
i knew one day you'd laugh yourself to death
before you even made it past the pier
before you even built the wretched things
the world stood still and mourned for you, my dear
the moment that you dreamed of having wings
YOU ARE READING
where the roads don't go
Poetryin·tro·spec·tion noun \ˌin-trə-ˈspek-shən\ : the process of examining your own thoughts or feelings
