Fleeing to water taking in the air, a salty pungent smell. Street lamps barely light these pages as the sun bids good night to the moon. Loved ones collide and come together, yet here I sit alone.
City lights sparkle like stars before their time. Surrounded by beauty, greedily wanting more.
Turning a page, I learn to care less changing who I am as I carefully piece swatches of fabric together to embody my next act.
When truth means nothing, words unsaid are feelings left unacknowledged.
Now there's nothing
3 comments:
Thank you. I am quite proud of it... its become more than I ever expected :)
"You are invited to Anonymous Soul to answer this question
{What's worse, being forgotten or replaced?}"
Being forgotten
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