he read it, and then moved on,
truths be told, he did not care, not even for one.
maybe he saw what i said,
and turned it into something that yet wasn't even bound to a thread.
he told it, and i know,
for not that day, did my face glow.
one day he will understand,
that it wasn't ever a mistake, it was planned.
maybe the story is to not tell,
and truths be told, it was hell.
YOU ARE READING
gone too far
Poezjasimple. sharp. and hopefully memorable. poetry for the mad. join us. {lowercase intended } ------------------------------ bec g. crawley © 2019
