I never knew if you had an inkling of an idea
of my love for secrets and mysteries,
Things that drew me to you, to us.
But you, dear person, weren't the mystery.
No.
The questions of your being did not leave
me sleepless with millions of questions
Running through my head at night.
It wasn't what you did or what you were.
It wasn't even the why's or how's.
It was the only after the story that left me with
The greatest mystery both of us
can never be certain of:
"What happened?"
YOU ARE READING
Rhyming Thoughts
PoetryRhyming thoughts. Spilled words. Random Poetry.// 8/7/16 - Hi. First of all, to those who have read the first ever poems I posted here and also those who plan to read this collection - thank you so much. Knowing that a few of you out there read or e...
