time flies by and i inevitably find myself writing another poem about a friend lost, about a love that died in its cradle, about her
i realize the futility of it
i wish i could stop and forget
but every moment without her is a moment spent yearning to be with her
oh how i miss her
does she feel the same? does she still think of me?
i have my answer, yet i can't help but long for the days when we were closer
why did i have to go and ruin it all











