You said a long time ago, wasn't enough..
Wasn't enough to erase our memories....
Then why am I the only one crying.
In this park, with these old trees.
Where we carved our name in the depths of the oak.
Where I sit alone with tears that make me choke.
You are happy now, in someone else's arms.
And I'm here all alone dealing with the harms.
YOU ARE READING
If I Were A Book
PoetryA simple collection of poetry for the readers with souls made of stars.
