tell me when we started this thing?
the thing that doesnt even have a name to be called,
the thing that we both still ignored to be felt,
the thing that we spent every night to think of?
we were made for a kiss,
then go, without saying goodbye.
we were made for a night,
then woke up, pretending nothing happened.
we were made for each other
but still trying to catch someone else,
we felt it
but we dont care.
YOU ARE READING
him
Poetryi'd still writing, until i stop loving him, atleast. or until he could just get out of my head, in every affection way. . . not a story, just a couples of words.
