To forget or not to forget.
I shall drink my last cup of my dreams of you.
As I stare morosely at these bottles around me.
Each broken bottle is a story, of me, of us.
I feel the sorness in my throat and its burning slowly.
I feel old. Shall I forget these years? I can’t believe these years has been mirage
Dec 9, 2018
Dec 9, 2018 at 4:27 PM UTC
To forget or not to forget.
I shall drink my last cup of my dreams of you.
As I stare morosely at these bottles around me.
Each broken bottle is a story, of me, of us.
I feel the sorness in my throat and its burning slowly.
I feel old. Shall I forget these years? I can’t believe these years has been mirage