The memory of our yesterday came to me like a gust of wind, blinding me with the dust it brings
Growing up having each other's side
He never forget to bring along a handkerchief to wipe the tears I couldn't hide
Maybe I'm confused,
maybe it's what a friend does.
He held doors and reserved a seat
whenever I'm late
Constantly ask how my day goes
as we stand by the church gate
So young back then,
never knowing who fell first
But I guess I was too late to reciprocate the feelings he had as he held hands with her.
Maybe it's my fault, maybe I'm too blind to see him as just a friend
Never imagining I'm the one
who will end up hurting
Now that his gestures that once
focused on me are now on her
And I'm just a friend
who ended up being a stranger.
YOU ARE READING
words we wished to say
PoetryAll she had was a piece of paper and a pen with almost no ink. She poured her heart out while tears stream down her face as she made these poems, these words she wished to say. Writing what she's feeling never fails to provide solace to her heart w...
