Maybe you were too far gone to catch up with
I was too shameless to keep going on
Somewhere in the middle, I started to hate myself
You, in the end, loved me less than before
No one wants love if it feels like a burden
Loving too much is no gift for your soul
I knew it all, yet I tried to hold on to
Your hands were open, your fingers were soft
***
© Copyright: Вера Эра, 2024
Свидетельство о публикации №124040104210
Свидетельство о публикации №124040104210
Рецензии
