I said to myself,
You're Gillian Gale,
You don't dwell on relationships,
You're over them
Before it's even registered that it's
Over.
I said to myself,
You're gonna be okay tomorrow,
You don't carry your problems into
The next day,
But I did this time.
I've carried my problems into
Every next day that there has been,
And even though you're truly gone,
I still carry you with me every day.
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...
