I was worried you weren't coming back.
That whatever I said wasn't really what I thought.
The bed grew cold as I remembered everything.
There, on the wall was the bracelet I bought.
It was meant to be given to you before we departed.
Before we started through life after our eighteenth year.
Yet, I couldn't give it to you.
Fear crawling up my back as adulthood came near.
How long has it been since we last heard from each other?
Always talking about living together, and doing amazing things.
Yet, here we are today; not saying a thing.
Waiting for what the next few years will bring.
YOU ARE READING
Life Of Reality
PoetryPoems. From young to old. Happy to unhappy. Friends to family. Poetry to many lines of words. Only one author to write it all. ×××× Ranks: #27 in meaning
