A Split
And in the end, we split up.
The dream immediately faded.
How many castles have we erected together, my dear?
What happened to the stories we'd been told?
The tremor of longing is as strong as ever.
Mumbling might be heard all through the night.
I am uncertain, and we grieved a poem.
How many tears have you shed, sweetheart?
Copyright © Sotto Poet | Year Posted 2022
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