Feb 18, 2024
Nothing
The bandaids of time convinced me I have been healed, but from your deepest cuts I find myself wince in my sleep. To this day. At 4am, from the yearning I feel so strongly on, I awake.
When you lose a love that has bloomed, you die tortured by the memories of spring. When you uproot an emotion yet to blossom, your dreams stem from then wishful thinkings; you live mistaking your hopes with nothing.
