You became my everything,
My future only containing you,
And I wish I'd have known then,
How things would turn out,
Because now I spend my 3am's
Staring at my ceiling wondering,
Wondering where my forevers have
Gone,
And when they're coming back,
And they're really scary thoughts,
To be having at just sixteen,
When you have a whole lot of forevers
Ahead of you,
But you don't know where they are.
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...
