By ف
She,
was chasing the sun –
arduously.
Not knowing that everything was futile.
Pensive,
pathetic,
and pessimistic.
She changed.
Not that she lost the spark,
but she was just being
fair to herself.
Wasted and wounded.
She resisted
to listen nor sing along,
to the sound of bitter truth.
How ironic.
After all those things,
She was not making the memories for ‘them’,
But only for herself to keep –
forever.
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