Tragic.

30 2 0

by Xandelion

by Xandelion

Back when we had planned our lives together.
Thought about our unborn children.
The number of little you and little me we would make.
How you'll be the one to scold them and I the one to draw them close.
How we will try to beat old age by dying our gray hair black or any other color.
How we will tell our grandchildren our love story and hope to inspire them.

How you'll be my shoulder to cry on.
How I'll be your comfort zone.

Our planned but never carried out trips.
Dance rehearsals, it was just a rehearsal.

Too many plans, many wishes.
We didn't pray.

Now we can't stand each other,
like we never meant anything to ourselves.

Tragic.

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