She'd moan, I'd moan
Love was really there
But love doesn't last
That's why it's beautiful
Months have already past
And her love dwindles
While mine still grows
We talk on occasion
But it feels different
I really want more
But that is earned
Through trials and tribulations
Of one's inner being
As well as hers
Although I am undeserving
I will always feel
What should be dead
YOU ARE READING
Separate
RomantikaThe one thing we never want to do, sometimes ends being the one thing we have to do... Separate
