He felt something.
So did she.
Their friends saw their
connected heart strings.
But the so-called-ego ended up naming it just a fling.
YOU ARE READING
Dead Ends
PoezjaSometimes it's not about the end. It's just about the story. A collection of four liners that I wrote which didn't have the oh-so-perfect endings. Well because life doesn't offer each and everyone the fairytale endings they grew up listening to.
