I Write As a Form of Therapy
I think about you sometimes, and wonder how you’re doing.
What we were is way in the past... I am not the same person that you knew and loved.
I miss you, but probably that “you” doesn’t exist anymore.
It makes me sad that the past cannot be salvaged.
Ruins, ruins of memories.
We are nothing but strangers now, when I once couldn’t imagine life without you around.
What we were is way in the past... I am not the same person that you knew and loved.
I miss you, but probably that “you” doesn’t exist anymore.
It makes me sad that the past cannot be salvaged.
Ruins, ruins of memories.
We are nothing but strangers now, when I once couldn’t imagine life without you around.