I wonder and sometimes worry. Herein lie those ponderings with perhaps some editing but still in their truer forms. Whisper as well, though in truth, whispers are just that, rustlings in the wind and nothing more. It is kind to not be alone with one's own whispers.
Sunday, January 27, 2019
Bittersweet
.
.
Haunting? Memory? Never enough. Then or now.
So shes always said? Accused.
I knew hers.
Did shes recognize me?
Why so angry when shes got what shes wanted, demanded?
No comments:
Post a Comment
Backsass Here