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my dearest,
here i am, living, hoping the first days will sink in easily.
you are near; you aren't far like i thought. but the line parallel to me is your perfect epitome.
from there, i knew you can't be the one, the one i wait every time the second hour of the day passes by.
you sure are a gorgeous drizzle to remember, but we simply are restricted to work on the existence of forever.
you won't be there for me every September.
you sure gave me hope like no other and--the same--like summer, but you won't be unfailingly by my side to stop my tears.
you won't be there for me every March.
you sure are a perfect rhyme for me and my words and my melodies, but when we become contraries, i fear we won't be compatible.
you won't be there for me every July.
like the first days in the past, our tragedy didn't sink in that easily.
you are near; you aren't far like i thought. but we are restrained by fate.
i was doomed to be lost but fated to be found by someone... who carries any name but yours.
you can't be the one, the one i dream of when true love crosses my mind, the one who doesn't have to see me in a masquerade...
just to see me parade the truth in me.
you are near, and i know what makes you seem far.
you and i are unbound, and you are nothing now but a reminiscence.
love,
fussbudget
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YOU ARE READING
Parade
Poesia𝙋𝙖𝙧𝙖𝙙𝙚 ╰ a s e r i e s o f p o e m s ╰ c o m p l e t e d Little Fussbudget knew nothing but her shelf of problems in her innocent world... not until she was silenced by an angelic beast. In the endless parade she joined, find out the trut...
