Those glossy trails of gold down your back drew people in,
Like bees to honey. They fed on that sweetness, ravenous.
I had to watch them, because envy greened in my heart.
You, with your pretty eyes and selflessness.
At last, glorious day, we found each other.
I took in those days like the sugar-soaked rays of sun
Those dying days of May.
When we parted, I wanted us to be friends.
But we tumbled, fell to nothing.
We said goodbye, but I'd rather die than remember you.
I think about the weight of those words. Was it true?
'I want to be friends'- or did I want us to be more?
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YOU ARE READING
Never In Spring ✓
PoetryAlways winter, never in spring, but she'll wait a thousand lifetimes for him. A personal account of a bitter, heartbroken lover's descent as she grows, watching her blooming love wither into nothing. Love poetry anthology. © elle sonder 2024