The hurt from the longing
Of what we could have been
Is greater than the pain
Of missing what we were
[We were an almost
But you don't like gambling]
YOU ARE READING
H I M
Poetry"Blue eyes for distant Stars Honey eyes for Sunlight, We are the crashing of waves on sand Tree branches reaching for the bright sky We are where you end and I start; We were made to belong." This is a chapter in a book I am putting together. And t...
