Dreamed of you, wanting to start all over again.
You wanting me to be your best friend.
Believing it was real.
'Cause my feelings can't be concealed.
I opened my eyes, to my dismay,
I saw you walking away.
Alas all of it was just a dream.
Here I am, containing my scream.
Can’t believe you’re so different from before.
My heart and voice is already sore,
For crying out your name as I miss you.
You don’t care anymore, I know you do.
YOU ARE READING
Spilled Ink Poetry
Poetry"The poem is a little myth of man's capacity to make life meaningful." - Robert Penn Warren
