|
|
| Home Just In Communities Forums Beta Readers Dictionary Search | Login Register Extras |
For all my life, I’ve wondered
why you told me of decay
as if it were a friend of yours
whom I would meet someday;
cluttered is your longing
in a room so grey-
I finally see your thinning face
hidden beneath veins.
I finally sense that solitude
sent you on its way,
killing off another hope
every single day.