• im_your_hazel 87w


    That's a clingy fact,
    that we got detached
    for no good reason.
    Help yourself with that,
    though it's no more than a tract
    with recession.
    Pass your life with that;
    similar tact,
    Yet it wrecked us.
    You and me, we both
    Know the hails in our minds
    that urge us to reunite.
    Thursday goes, Friday blows,
    Saturday, Sunday close the doors.
    What's left is the vague slit
    my heart's entry kept for you.
    Still decide
    To come inside
    And never again close the door