And She Grew Strings.

don’t tell me to move on
don’t tell me how to feel
my love is my love.
we don’t choose
it comes to us.
whether right or wrong
I’ll wait in the dark
looking for the tiniest sliver of light
– on days that it shines
I know that this is right.

so don’t tell me let go
that this is fleeting like a balloon on the wind
because his string is attached to my fist
that continues to grow.

he says, “don’t love me…”
and I reply, “…too late.”


~ by kagomesakura on May 14, 2013.

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