Four years
It's been
Baby we were connected
Like the moon and sun
We imbued one another
Confused with each other
Confabulated, here and there
My train of thought
Was everywhere
Computing our history
Digression had become of us
Abridgment of decision
Transpired us
No us, became of strangers
We walk past
As if their were
No past
I knew things
Would not last
No value, No upcoming
It was never
Something
YOU ARE READING
Four Years
PoetryThis is about a person that I really cared for who lied about himself, who lied about his sexuality and who lied...... And ever since then we have not spoken.
