March 5th, 2015
12 AM
I wait and wait for you to knock on my door and say that you're done traveling and jumping in and out of cities, but instead all I get is people asking if I'm okay. And I'm not. Because I know that in a matter of time they'll stop asking and move on with there lives while I wait for the knock on my door that in the back of my mind, I know will never come.
YOU ARE READING
Midnight
Poetryshe would wait and wait for him to finally come back, each midnight writing a note she knew he would never read, because she would never send them.
