You always asked me
if I was cold
And no matter how I felt
my answer would always be no
Carelessly and recklessly
we let this love unfold
Parting ways
we were once in deep sorrow
But you moved on
filled with bright hopes of tomorrow
Now what's left
is just one broken soul
when you told me
for three years
that it was time for me to go.
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.
