You see vivid parts of him in every corner of your memory. A love once so afire it'd burn cities. Not anymore. He decided he could never outwit you on your own game. The sun sets awfully longer when you don't hear his voice during the day. Nights are even worse. You want him back. He doesn't. All along, you were right—you were the hardest love. And him—the hardest goodbye.
YOU ARE READING
Skyless constellations
Poetrya compilation of anything; the things that my mind and pen nudges me to put into paper. read if you have time to spare
