We walk and walk
Knowing what we have is just a chalk of our imagination
Saying that we don't feel normal
But it is formal to know when to change for someone
Days, Weeks, Months pass by
Without a mime to conjure logic
We escalate
From "like" to "love"
From holding hands to carrying
We say "I miss you" or "I love you"
To convey such explicit emotion we do not stop marching
It's a starch of flame ready to burn out once we continue to love
YOU ARE READING
Crimson Omen
PoetryWhen love is inevitably strong. One may act as of nothing is present, though, in the inside it is excruciating sorrow.
