Things were not
Changing as much
Your presence, none of it,
I am anything but
Different.
I set out to
Believe in my own eyes.
High and low,
Quite afar,
Strung after a desperate
Hope to understand
Why is it that I
And you never lie.
There was this scribble
Of hate and anger
And love, and everything
That I had ever felt
About you, but
I lost the paper
To a fire
Willingly.
The only choice
I was left with, and lived with
Was to move on.
I did, at least
I think I did.
I really did it.
YOU ARE READING
Blunt
Short Story"For I am a blunt edge, the dull side that is of a deadly weapon; yet still, I can cut through the waves in an odd sense." -Forgive and Take- "Like a progressive evolution of a semi-completed music score, our hands reach out of the nebula. We pictur...
