I stood at the centre of it all
your attention and your promises,
and yet, it was ink
on brittle pages
that held me like roots hold the dead.
these words held me in ways
your arms never did,
and your presence never could.
Feb 25, 2025
Feb 25, 2025 at 10:12 AM UTC
I stood at the centre of it all
your attention and your promises,
and yet, it was ink
on brittle pages
that held me like roots hold the dead.
these words held me in ways
your arms never did,
and your presence never could.
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