Photo by Altınay Dinç on Unsplash
I grieve the people we once were.
Oh, but there are people we’ve yet to meet.
Lost versions of ourselves
New ones to greet
As an adult, my mom’s bed is unmade, as a kid it was always neat
We swore to leave our hometown at 15
Tell me, is the paperwork knee-deep?
Myself included, I no longer drink coffee.
I used to loathe staying up late
When did I start to hate the morning?
About the Creator
angelica lesly
‘Don’t—don’t go.
Don’t carry it to someone else this time.
Tell me about it if it’s something human.
Let me into your grief. - Robert Frost
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