mistake
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He made me return to writing poetry. When we talked, it wasn’t violins that played, but sonnets that whispered on his lips. I could feel the letters moving in my heart, not yet taking shape but there, waiting to be released. He had been everything I asked for. And yet… We were here. Letters, locked.
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I missed him. It was my fault that I would never see him again. Never hear from him again. One of the things I was attracted to was his ability to take charge and make a decision. His ability that once he had decided something he didn’t waffle. I knew once he said that I
Wandering & Wondering 