Yet again I held this pen,
What compelled me once again to write,
Why my soul tends, to screech your name,
Knowing my heart, which has no right,
And why do I tend to see you,
in every face I see,
In every heart I barely touch,
every feeling that I feel,
You could've had me,
achieving everything we'd seen,
And as I write these words,
I'm living up to those dreams;
Yet these days feel cold, And nights feel empty,
And you, you aren't anywhere by my side,
Am I supposed to laugh,or I'm supposed to cry,
Is this all really worth, When you aren't beside,
Why was it so easy for you,
As easy as it always had been,
Empty classrooms, unanswered letters,
In blink of an eye,Forgetting all we had seen,
And how am I supposed
To fall again with such passion,
How not months but years passed,
What I felt didn't lessen..
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