I wonder how it will feel to no longer see your face, to finally be without you in my home and not our place. I am familiar with the bed,
By Amanda Abela5 years ago in Poets
Could it be that we are strangers, or passers-by on the street, in a tormented, tragic story where we will never meet?
My bones are heavy, heavy with the burden of the road partly travelled, heavy with the burden of the path still laid out ahead.
