Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
May 2019
I don't know about us anymore.
Something's we used to do not that stuff I'm talking about long rides for no reason.

Lingering essence of hope escaping my sorrounding.

Maybe one day someone will love me the way that I loved you.

Maybe one day I'll love someone that way that you loved me.

Life is miserable when I'm miserable, some days I feel some
I don't.
185
     ---, Weeping willow and Bogdan Dragos
Please log in to view and add comments on poems