Photo by Romain Briaux on Unsplash
Holding on to what we could have been,
Pretending it might go our way,
Does us no good in the end.
Still hoping that you'll stay.
Held out hand withdrawn,
No more words left.
Missing you.
Take me,
Death.
About the Creator
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Comments (3)
It gets dark and hits deep, wonderful piece.
It feels bad
Perfectly crafted