Here's my chance,
I will tell her how I feel!
I'll look her in the eye,
and wait she's leaving already,
but it isn't time to go .
S step out after her,
she sees me not.
No, no, no
what do I do, uhh.
I, I ....
and then she passes throught the doors...
with letter in hand I leave.
That letter I've worked on for so many hours,
the one I unloaded my soul into.
I rip it to shreds...
why keep it, she's gone, I won't see her again.
I drop the tattered remains into the trash,
and so fallows my heart.
Why do I need it?
she's gone...
by the way this really did happen to me, so not all poems are just some sad little fantasy.
Write to Live; Live to Read: Poetry
A gathering of poetic people who help each other grow in their poetic ablilites.