When I first picked this book three months ago,
With hope for an epic that never ends,
But having reached the back cover, I know,
That there are no more lines that can be penned:
_____________________________
This read began so foreign in my eyes,
With each new page, my joy kept climbing on,
Until that dreadful twist reversed its rise,
As if the sun chose to set during dawn:
____________________________
And still I read to close out this chapter,
Despite the ache that sought to just ignore,
The rest, I had to finish just for her,
My work stops here, another shall write more:
________________________________
In my life's book, you were all that I wrote,
But in yours, I was a simple footnote.
YOU ARE READING
Shackled Sonnets: A Collection of Poems
PoetryA collection of sonnets about that which I shall never have. A girl I love, but she loves another. I have only recently been reading and writing poetry because of her, so hopefully, my writing will get better as time goes on. Check back for a new so...
