I don't really understand why I cried over him, after telling myself so many times over that he meant nothing. I thought it was over, I had finally convinced myself. But then it's nighttime, and a song comes on that makes me think of him. And suddenly my cheeks start to tingle, and my heart aches, and my eyes burn. So, I wipe the tears and I sit and try not to think of anything at all, because, I'm afraid that somehow, it will always lead to him. His smile, his eyes, and the day he left... He never even said goodbye....
YOU ARE READING
Ne Decorem
Puisi"Was not writing poetry a secret transaction, a voice answering a voice?" - Virginia Woolf
