She knew what she was losing
How much she would hurt.
The ache she would feel
From loving you.
But at the same time,
she also had the slightest hope
That it wouldn’t happen.
She saw the tiniest spark in you
One she wished to turn into a flame.
But she was silly to believe that.
Because you had a cloud over you.
The spark could never become a flame
Because you would put it out.
About the Creator
Keep reading
More stories from Moriah king and writers in Poets and other communities.
A Dart at Dusk
Seconds ago, the sullen sun set on the two of us… my exuberant furry companion and me. A fresh breeze embraces us, delivering welcome relief from the day’s oppressive heat. His typical stumbling and staggering along — apace with a sloth — has turned into trip-trapping, high-stepping, almost skipping along.
By Angie the Archivist 📚🪶3 days ago in Petlife
Comments
There are no comments for this story
Be the first to respond and start the conversation.