The flowers have long been wilted
over your charcoaled remains, but
every time I think of you
I cannot refrain from asking
"Why?"
And I am torn - angry -
that you were ripped so violently away.
My mind says I need to let go, but
my heart may not ever be ready.
FORLORN
Jan 9, 2014
Jan 9, 2014 at 12:26 PM UTC
The flowers have long been wilted
over your charcoaled remains, but
every time I think of you
I cannot refrain from asking
"Why?"
And I am torn - angry -
that you were ripped so violently away.
My mind says I need to let go, but
my heart may not ever be ready.
FORLORN
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