Though I know.
It's over already,
but still, I wait for my decision
though it's written in the unsaid,
a language of avoidance
and realisation
that change isn't forthcoming,
stuck in staccato,
I'm weary, shrink to nothing,
grey and flat lining
slipping into despair,
then, dream fantasies of a future,
without you.
Poetry by shells
Read 899 times
Written on 2016-04-11 at 18:31




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