I think there will always be a space held,
just for you.
An open door with the lights on,
waiting with tender heart.
My loose ended red string,
the open book that was never closed,
never finished.
I will always
have a piece of me,
waiting.
Apr 11, 2025
Apr 11, 2025 at 4:29 PM UTC
I think there will always be a space held,
just for you.
An open door with the lights on,
waiting with tender heart.
My loose ended red string,
the open book that was never closed,
never finished.
I will always
have a piece of me,
waiting.
