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Literature Text
I saw the life we had planned
The house we could have had
The memories we could have shared come crashing down.
I saw them shatter, explode and disappear.
The past
The present
The future
The past that is set in stone.
That has happened
That can't change
The present that is this second
That is happening right now
That is this moment
The future that goes and flows like a river
That changes every second
That is different every moment
That you have ruined for us
That you have decided wasn't needed
So as memories wash away I cry for what we lost
For what you ruined
But then I almost want to laugh
Because I know how we will end up
And I'm not the bad side
I'll live a good life
I'll have fun
I might even get married to someone I actually love
You won't.
The house we could have had
The memories we could have shared come crashing down.
I saw them shatter, explode and disappear.
The past
The present
The future
The past that is set in stone.
That has happened
That can't change
The present that is this second
That is happening right now
That is this moment
The future that goes and flows like a river
That changes every second
That is different every moment
That you have ruined for us
That you have decided wasn't needed
So as memories wash away I cry for what we lost
For what you ruined
But then I almost want to laugh
Because I know how we will end up
And I'm not the bad side
I'll live a good life
I'll have fun
I might even get married to someone I actually love
You won't.
Literature
Shed a Tear
The train pulled into the platform at Wootton Bassett and we all clambered off and ran into our waiting lovers arms. I looked around for my Lucy. I spotted her at the back looking around nervously. I'd been gone for almost a year now and even now as I stand on the platform I can't seem to decide whether I missed her or not. I was always an outgoing soul, loud and talkative. Always hooking up with girls when I was still at home. I walked slowly over to Lucy.
"Luke!" she laughed nervously, running into my arms.
Literature
The Taste Of Sadness
What would sadness taste like?
Like the tears of a lost friend?
Like ashes as everything burns?
Like the last kiss before you left?
Literature
Hands
your hands reach out to me,
soft, so warm and inviting
turning cold before my
fingers ever reach yours.
you hold my hand tightly
at first and then your grip
loosens and our palms
slide away from each other.
I am left with cold sweat
and unfinished plans in
place of where your fingers
interlocked with mine imperfectly.
Holding myself no longer
feels the same thanks to
you and your sweaty,
cold, lying hands.
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. Wrote a few days ago
© 2012 - 2024 katara11111
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