The rose you gave me still hangs in my room next to my bed. it's old now. brittle to the touch. it looks like nothing. as if it has no meaning. just another dead flower whose memory exists of lively moments and happiness that's been lost in time.
-thoughtfulness never dies
YOU ARE READING
You
Poetry"You"- meaning the you personally and You aside from me. This book talks about the You individually and going through times when you are your own light but, also when all you see and when all you feel is darkness. The You I dream about and need and...
