And with every day
That you are gone,
I can feel my creativity
Slipping away from me.
And with every day
That you are gone,
I can feel my sanity
Escaping me.
And with every day
That you are gone,
These damned poems
Become harder to write.
g.c.g
The blossom of a poet
By Gillian_Gale
Words fall softly like the petals from a blossom tree, drifting slowly onto the paper, creating poetry like t... More