How I wish I could just cut the line between us; the twine that spun like friendship, but knotted as love.
I write to sever this despicable red string sutured around our pinky fingers; that maybe the point of my pen could cut everything that spoke of us. But darling, why is it that every time I do, we both end up holding the same end?
YOU ARE READING
Paper & Ink |#Wattys2016|
Puisi"I am the black on white; the ink on paper." A collection of my nightly thoughts and daydreams. Highest rank: #5 in Poetry. Please enjoy reading and find a friend in one of my works. :)
