Days pass slowly, nights end quickly
It feels like only yesterday,
It happened in January, and its already June.
Mornings are dreaded, nights are lonely.
Weekends are boring, vacations are quiet.
Things are just quiet in general.
Things just are.
Your presence haunts this house, it haunts me.
They say only time can heal all wounds.
But the stitches keep busting open with every memory.
Scared and overwhelmed with concerns
While love remains.
Endless moments.
Precious time.
Healing of a broken heart, mending of open wounds.
Prayers of Hope and Wishful thoughts.
Together, may we grow old in harmony,
for only the sands of time can tell.
About the Creator
Deborah Portillo
I’m just an amateur writer, expressing my hopes, dreams, and nightmares for all to read. A lot of my short stories come from nightmares, while my poems are expressed from hopes, dreams, and feelings.
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