B
Bent but not Broken
I still have not worked up the courage to put pen to paper about what really transpired so poetry is a baby step, hope someone can relate.
His love was like a shooting star.
Present one moment.
Gone the next.
You start to question if was it just an illusion?
Even there at all?
My love was like the moon.
Hidden most the time.
But always lingering.
His love was like a shooting star.
Present one moment.
Gone the next.
You start to question if was it just an illusion?
Even there at all?
My love was like the moon.
Hidden most the time.
But always lingering.
