foremost
i chose not
to pursue you
i've got no idea
if it's normal
to get flashes
of you
when in every step
of every frame
i find myself
fading from view
what is more
i found an
alternate route
trailed my impulse
just to know
what it's about,
only to find
myself shackled
into the void
where i'm but
a shout
to finish
is there something
in store for me
tell me
wherefore i'm tired—
dead tired
of doing
blindfolded guessing
if that something
in store
is something i adore
or a pat to retract
what i'm doing
YOU ARE READING
Come Home
PoetryHe would exhaust every piece of him just to write and write for more. And, if these words won't be able to reach her nor won't they be enough, his words implore nothing but one last request: please... come home. Limning vivid pictures through intric...
