My dear!
Heard you're still soaring high
And your wing's still a shelter for many who you love.
Ohh! Am I still reckoned as your loved ones?
Beyond our past, do you still ponder, I am worthy of your being?
Being forgotten would ache me enormously.
For my concealed solicitude for you was true and outwith.
And our unrequited love too arduous to clutch on.
So I sailed away.
Waves hit me back unceasingly
For I'm too fragile on my own.
Sadly,
All we had was a dreamy yesteryear.
Paodon
YOU ARE READING
The Afterthoughts
Poetry"The Afterthoughts", is a room where I bottle up my cursory thoughts, hidden from the realm I am existing and presenting it to the world where I yearn to fit (bookish world).
