I can't. I can't. I can't. I can't. I can't. I can't. I can't.
It's been but a
few months
blending together days
As watercolors change on paper.
It's been
rollercoasters and
arguments that fade
As pencil lead scrapes and cracks
the sketchbook of our creation.
We've grown
close but not quite enough
to say we're mature.
It remains unfinished.
I can't say Goodbye just yet.
Our hums and skids and crackles
form ripples beneath my skin
and satisfaction in my ears
as our sketchbook comes to life.
I love you
and can never tell enough
the way you make my eyes water
my chest bounce
my mind dance
and my heart smile.
I can't say Goodbye just yet.
We must return to our homelands.
The battle
has ended.
But I'm standing
by my own
Tombstone.
I've visited
my own
Funeral.
I've done all I can do
Said all to be spoken
Made all I can craft
But this is not the end.
Not for me.
I refuse.
I can't say Goodbye just yet.
I can't. I can't. I can't. I can't. I can't. I can't. I can't.
I can't say goodbye just yet.
YOU ARE READING
《The Opposite Of Writers Block》
РазноеI'll post things here, such as oneshots and OCs. I'll make up little things and never have to worry about plot or anything similar. The style will definitely vary, especially depending on how I'm feeling at the time. If enough people want a develope...
