My thoughts turn to her still.
Inexplicable how touch, smell,
sight and sound connect the dots back,
every thought, externally influenced,
point her way.
...still I mess it up,
an already overflowing mixen
of disappointment and crushed hopes,
enveloping this existence in a shroud of
uncertainty, further condemning ourselves
to a future, one without the other.
No comments:
Post a Comment