The emptiness of this room whispers
to me with the same pain you had in your voice:
“Sometimes love just isn’t enough”
With those words you made the poetess
in me want to set on fire all of the poems she wrote.
If not love, then what?
Poem #152
The emptiness of this room whispers
to me with the same pain you had in your voice:
“Sometimes love just isn’t enough”
With those words you made the poetess
in me want to set on fire all of the poems she wrote.
If not love, then what?