I spend my weeks trying to convince
Myself that I knew we weren't a forever
Thing.
And it nearly,
Almost works,
Almost,
But then I remember that I really did
Think that we were a forever thing,
And I remember all the plans I'd made,
All the things I was willing to give up
For you,
You who did not think we were
A forever thing,
You who perhaps never did,
I do not blame you, not really,
We could never have been a forever
Thing,
Even if we had tried,
We wanted different things from life,
And you,
You have a far brighter future
Than I.
g.c.g
YOU ARE READING
The blossom of a poet
PoetryWords fall softly like the petals from a blossom tree, drifting slowly onto the paper, creating poetry like the spring, beautiful and light, but just like the seasons, the poetry changes, the autumn comes and the words become heavy, falling quickly...
