365 Days of Poetry: Day Sixty-Three

I want things to make sense again.
I miss the world we lived in together.

Maybe I make mountains from molehills.

I know we are not who we used to be.
I know seven years is a long time.

Maybe I needed you to call.

I want my muse around again.
I miss the words that always flowed.

Maybe I’m the one that screwed it all.

I know I couldn’t sit and wait.
I know we can’t, I know we can’t.

Maybe I wish I didn’t care.


About June Faramore

Writer of fantasy, mainstream, and young adult fiction. Poet and sketcher. Mother. I read a lot and love cheese. Guitar playing singer-songwriter. I also enjoy stepping on the cracks in the sidewalk. View all posts by June Faramore

this side, that side

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