Poetry

A Dying Flame

January 16, 2015

You wait, and you hope,
And you sit around and mope.
You sit, and you cry.
You ask yourself, “Why?”

Why did he leave without a trace?
Why do I still miss his stupid fucking face?

Time’s supposed to help,
But so far it’s just made you numb,
Numb and dumb and a pathetic fucking bum.

You no longer dream of love.
You’ve lost the fire.
Your heart’s a mess.
You have just one desire:

You want him back.
You want his love—

Or at least an explanation
For what he’s done.

– ylf –

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