I didn't want you to know how much I wanted you so I kept writing poems about you, put them in a box, buried it at the backyard near the mango tree where I carved your name. And, I left you a note during my last visit.
I was rocking my chair there at the front porch cuddling my kitties like an eighty-year-old lady was supposed to be on a sunny afternoon. Then there's this little boy (who looked so much like you when you used to be kid with chubby cheeks on a picture in a frame hanged from your living room wall) who never stopped nagging me about those letters in a box he found at the backyard.
Jul 24, 2015
Jul 24, 2015 at 8:52 PM UTC
I didn't want you to know how much I wanted you so I kept writing poems about you, put them in a box, buried it at the backyard near the mango tree where I carved your name. And, I left you a note during my last visit.
I was rocking my chair there at the front porch cuddling my kitties like an eighty-year-old lady was supposed to be on a sunny afternoon. Then there's this little boy (who looked so much like you when you used to be kid with chubby cheeks on a picture in a frame hanged from your living room wall) who never stopped nagging me about those letters in a box he found at the backyard.
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