If we remember that day, happened so fast.
We were falling, falling in love, they said.
We thought God might have written it all.
The sweet destiny of us.
The endless happiness in us.
We used to believe, we will work it out.
Till the hair turns grey, till the skin gets aged.
Do we even know what happens next?
It’s the same, we’re still falling.
But this time, it’s the kind of falling
that breaks the bricks.
And this time, it’s the kind of falling
that causes a stitch.
n.e
A poem inspired by Harry.