you
Missing you is hard to do.
I don't know what to do with all of my time.
You used to be the one to fill my time.
You used to be the one I leaned on for everything.
The all-nighters,
The chats,
The nights out,
The days in,
The drive here,
The drive there.
Everything I do reminds me of you.
Everything I feel reminds me that your not here.
Missing you is not something I want to do.
Because missing you means you are really gone.
In science one tries to tell people, in such a way as to be understood by everyone, something that no one ever knew before. But in poetry, it's the exact opposite.
Franz Kafka (1883-1924) Czech writer.
| Title | Comments | Submitted |
|---|---|---|
| Title | Comments | Submitted |
| to my husband | 0 | 07/06/2009 |
| Cancer sucks | 0 | 07/06/2009 |
| My life seems to always want to falter | 0 | 06/10/2009 |
| Me | 0 | 06/10/2009 |
| Blocked | 0 | 06/10/2009 |
| What to do without you? | 0 | 06/05/2009 |
| Ode to Love | 0 | 06/05/2009 |
| Why | 0 | 06/05/2009 |
| Secret love | 0 | 06/05/2009 |
| Why | 1 | 06/05/2009 |
| you | 0 | 06/05/2009 |
| Love | 0 | 06/05/2009 |
| Feel | 0 | 04/19/2009 |
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