by Katerina T Nix

The worlds stops to
watch our troubles grow,

-Perhaps the man I thought
I loved is not
As tender as he once was-

The days go so fast,
(the years are passing)
Perhaps you see me as
A waste of precious time

Who would have thought
We'd grow so tired of
each other's presence

So few words are spoken
I wonder if we are really trying
Or that we are too scared
to say good bye.


Posted on 01/28/2002
Copyright © 2020 Katerina T Nix

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