We both agreed that ending it was for the best,
Because sometimes the inevitable becomes unavoidable.
I repeated this to myself thirty times last night,
Yet my blind faith in us still prevailed.
The wind was the sound of your tyres on my drive,
The rain was your tears as you apologised greatly.
The night was a metaphor for how blind you were,
And the light by my front door was your guiding star.
But here I am,
There you are.
170 miles between us,
That pushed us apart.
The wind is empty,
And the rain is cold.
The night is black,
And my front door is closed.
But were you somehow to wonder,
In the midst of the night.
And find yourself by my door,
Would it be from my front door light?
Aug 5, 2019
Aug 5, 2019 at 7:40 AM UTC
We both agreed that ending it was for the best,
Because sometimes the inevitable becomes unavoidable.
I repeated this to myself thirty times last night,
Yet my blind faith in us still prevailed.
The wind was the sound of your tyres on my drive,
The rain was your tears as you apologised greatly.
The night was a metaphor for how blind you were,
And the light by my front door was your guiding star.
But here I am,
There you are.
170 miles between us,
That pushed us apart.
The wind is empty,
And the rain is cold.
The night is black,
And my front door is closed.
But were you somehow to wonder,
In the midst of the night.
And find yourself by my door,
Would it be from my front door light?
Just a poem I wrote about missing someone