We are so sure of nothing.
Not of each other.
Not of where we are going,
Not of what we want.
Definitely not what we need.
Yet, we keep coming back to this place,
Where it's just us.
Reaching.
Reaching.
But it's unattainable.
We are.
Smoking mirrors and dreams.
Reality is kicking in.
We are perfect for each other,
Only when we're apart.
-Zee
YOU ARE READING
Pieces of Her
PoetryGetting to know her. Others. Love. Hate. Promises and heartbreak Sometimes writing poetry helps with emotions. Sometimes it just adds gasoline to the fire. In the end, it's worth it. Always.
