Each day of my life, a page in a book.
...
I left a bookmark at the day we confessed to each other.
So that I could compare the past with the present- the transformation from complete strangers to star-crossed lovers.
...
Now,
I don't even want to compare.
I just want to return to that page-
that glorious, fleeing moment-
...
-as the present,
completely differs from the draft I planned.
YOU ARE READING
Kalopsia: Words Are Dangerous
PoetryWords are like lethal poison- it's either you swallow it, or you use it on others.
