you

And are you
20 again,
or 37
like when
I met you?
And will
you still
love me
when I cross
that final
barrier,
far older?
Or will I turn
27
again
and
we’ll have
all
the
time
we
missed?
I
don’t
care.
I would burn
the world
and
everything
in it
for one
smile
one
kiss
one
hug
from
you.
I
wait
in sorrow
until
I see you
once more.
Until
I’m
home
with you.
It’s
always
you.

This entry was posted in Death, grief, love, Uncategorized. Bookmark the permalink.

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