He's whom you let it all out to,
When no one is listening
He's the one you face,
When the walls you've built come crashing
He's the butterfly that emerges,
From the long process of metamorphosis;
The single thing you admire,
Even when what surrounds you is a wildfire
He gives that comforting embrace,
When all your emotions seem out of place
And when everything is due,
He's that one thing that's new
You love him,
And he never leaves
Who is he?
What's his identity?
He is Poetry.
YOU ARE READING
Residuum
RomanceEventually, the future becomes the present, the present becomes the past, and the past becomes memories. These memories become hazy and dissipate over time. But back when these memories were the present, the emotions I felt formed words, and these...
