• anetita 35w

    Almost

    When they ask me about pain,
    How it looks, I explain.
    I imagine your face,
    And my lips sound your name.
    Memories retained,
    Flood my heart, what remains.
    Our once-innocent game,
    Turned harsh, inhumane.
    I am ashamed.
    Not of the hurt, but the decay.
    A legendary love gone to waste,
    When we were one step away.

    And they say,
    "So it goes—the defining of pain.
    It is not what you've lost.
    It is what you failed to obtain."

    ©anetita