Not us. Not now.

You come up to me from behind and whisper ever so slowly,
Like you do, when you’re uncertain
Or anxious, treading on dangerous territory.
Since when did I become the uncertainty?
Since when did you become a mere shadow?
Promises from yesterday
Hanging like icy sharp knives
Stabbing my cold beaten heart
Till it bleeds dry
Memories etched upon my heart
Laughter from the past fusing with
Monstors in the present.

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About TheBlackWallflower

I'm just your average unique person. I love to read and write (no surprises there, eh?) and think a lot. I adore Rowling and think Harry Potter should be a religion. I also hate pink. I love fluff generally because it makes me feel intelligent and I love poetry because it makes me feel different. (yes, references.) I'm married to Sirius Black. So I sign myself as The Bitch alarmingly often. Oh, and I love Mr. Darcy. And Jo Longo. And Chandler Bing. And Sherlock. (Yes, I'm a fantard.) And in case you want to drop in a good, or a critical word, feel free to email me: theblackwallflower@gmail.com OR, follow me on Twitter: @WallflowerBlack Enough with the babble. OkBye. View all posts by TheBlackWallflower

4 responses to “Not us. Not now.

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