I never questioned it being a mistake, weaving you in songs and stories thinking they would never become memories. But all things end and I let go of us, leaving them in fragments and broken shards at the places where they began.
And when I came around again, they would meander in grace and form a still picture of myself and a man I was once in love with, of us weaving ourselves in songs and stories to forevermore. And then I would smile— the sad, tragic smile that hides a thousand secrets— and they would crumble again in place as I walk forward, alone, in held back tears.
—
[18/11/17]
YOU ARE READING
Lost Chapters
PoetryI'm sorry I never wrote about you--you were my secret. - [A collection of thoughts I thought were good when I first thought of them: some of others.]
