I had not known you a month

I did have more sense, until that night.

I was coming back for you. I always was.

But I thought you’d probably be gone when I got there.

But now I’m here. It’s dark.

and it’s raining.

and I’m waiting for you to come for me.

Is this what I get for leaving you on Halloween?

Candice Brontë

Reviews

[Ed Hart]

beware of drama