I know what he'll say,
It's always the same.
I will always react the same way,
Wondering why, how is this possible.
And then he leaves,
It isn't my fault, that's what he must think.
I know it is.
It's an endless cycle,
Waiting for the words to drop.
Beginning to feel the burn in my eyes.
The dryness of the air increases,
And those words.
The words I've been waiting for return.
'Goodbye again, maybe sometime in a while I can come back to you. But don't worry, I'll be back.'
The constant reassurance is not needed.
I know he'll be back.
I'm as certain that the sun will rise again, that the cycle will renew itself once more.
YOU ARE READING
Everything (And Nothing All at Once)
Poetry~An amateur book of poetry and a look into my life~ Read at your own risk, I've never been properly taught as to how I should go about writing, so I suppose I'll write what I please no matter how idiotic a person may find it. I understand this...
