Ray fell in love.
That's why she left town for a while.
She knew it wasn't going to happen.
She came back happier than before.
But she was still unhappy.
Luckily for her, she left town for a while too.
She had even more time to not think about her.
Of course, she occasionally did, but it was nothing more than a voice reminding her of her childish love.
It was two weeks then.
One week gone, one week away.
She was beginning to worry a little bit.
Though she knew the love she thought could happen would never be,
She'd hate to lose what friend she had before she fell for the trick love made.
Two weeks then passed that she had gone.
She started to ask around.
Where did she go
She moved about two weeks ago, they said.
She moved about two weeks ago.
YOU ARE READING
Late Night Literature
PoetryShort stories(or poems sometimes, if you can consider them that) I think of/write late at night or something. Just a small collection of thoughts, I guess.
