The leaving hurts.
It aches
And it burns
And it tears
Through my soul
Leaving behind
Gaping holes
Which my very being
And soul
Will flow.
The leaving
May hurt
But the staying
Could kill.
The waiting
was torture
and praying
so hopeless.
I wish I could say
that it all had a purpose
but in the end, it seems,
it is only painful.
YOU ARE READING
The Lonely Hour
PoetryNot everything rhymes Not everything has to Of all that is bright And what hides in darkness The loving The hiding The living The Binding It hurts us not To follow a purpose To quell our minds dullness And to find our own fullness. Of sentences Of...
