At the end of this poetry
This little tragic love story
Let me give you my honesty
The one who was cheating
Was none other than me
All time lying, denying
Sly as ever, can't see what I'm finding
Fake the love that wasn't meant to be
Pretending that one day
We could finally be happy
Prudish girl wanted it all to be perfect
In the end finding out
I'm the one with the defect
YOU ARE READING
Two Years Late
PoetryA collection of moments where rhyming was necessary. Short, simple poetry; yet, those who relate - too many. Weird titles for humor, but that doesn't make the poem experience less painful. Those titles are painful to me though. You'll see.
