It's the day before Thanksgiving,
and I'm feeling lonely as ever.
The ticking timebomb to pulse
Blood in my heart grows weary.
The first was of the one that never
Started. He was soft and sweet.
His smile was worthy of sunlight,
And I couldn't risk to hurt him.
The second one was one that almost
Began. He was nice and dorky and he
Loved me. I didn't go for it
Because it wouldn't last either way.
The third one was from the one that
didn't matter. He was a friend's best friend.
I expected him to say no, but contrary to my idea,
We kissed and I don't even know his last name.
YOU ARE READING
Noyadé
PoetryA series of small works: finished works and unfinished scraps and sober thoughts and inebriated words and drunk minds and me. All of me in here.
