leave
it was this certain moment, i feel so upset. i miss talking to the very person who pledges to always stay beside me. i miss talking to the very person who was left somewhere waiting. i miss it. so i turn my back and walk towards his familiar path.
i use my nose to trail up to his scent.
i use my eyes to trail up to his presence.
i use my heart to trail up to his warmth.
and at that specific moment, i saw him
but the time he saw me, he turned his back. . . and left.
YOU ARE READING
a writer's tear can write a book
Poetry". . . but if being sad is the only way to make myself write then i would gladly volunteer to be obliterated." genre: poetry // english
