I think i knew
through the weeks—the clusters of days
that number 49 was the last of us
the end of a summer
another passed season
of knowing and losing you
in between
confusion and frustration
Unable to properly say goodbye
unable to tell you
because you simply were never there
to give yourself up
to loving me.
-my heart hasn't let go
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...
