The act of letting you go was hard,
But how could I not, it wasn't a choice.
The loneliness is now striking me bad,
But I'm afraid I can't give it a voice.
The compromises I do are just sad,
I'm thankful to you for the joyce.
The venture I chose is plain mad,
I know, that's why my words devoice.
I'm thankful for your support my lad,
Unvoiced, but you were not my toys.
Its not fair to be in a triad,
I need to first make myself poise.
One last thing I'd like to add,
You were a song amidst the noise.
YOU ARE READING
Petrichor
PoetrySoon after the cruelly and devilishly beautiful rain, petrichor fills your nose if you aren't the one who ignores the murderous downpour in your private cabin. The smell of the rejuvenated sand is all what you feel when your feet explores nature's m...
