It's still so hard to think..
Your mother called me,
And broke the news.
Said you were driving,
Over to mine;
A surprise apology, apparently.
I wish you hadn't,
I wish I had had the courage,
To say "sorry" instead.
Then maybe you'd still be here,
With me,
Or maybe I'd be over there,
With you,
Still angry, maybe,
But fully intact,
Certainly.
But one thing I still don't get,
That is why you drove,
When you bike, normally,
As we all know,
You hate the roads, fondly.
YOU ARE READING
Letters To You: Poetry Collection
RomanceWhat if she's still out there somewhere, with an ear pressed to his heart. What if she's still out there somewhere, with an eye on his lips. What if she's still out there somewhere, with a patience to wait.
