It's been a year
of thinking
of you
Those dark monsters
that haunted my
sweet thoughts
were slain by you.
They come back
when you leave
when you're not here
and I have no one to hold.
My arms are empty
My mind is empty
My heart is haunted
And I'm waiting for you.
But it's not meant to be.
YOU ARE READING
Petrichor
PoetryWe grow old eventually {here are the waking thoughts that consume me}
