Grief
I run.
still so close you come—
all too embracing.
Tell you the truth,
I don’t want your open arms
to love me so hard,
I don’t think I will ever
be ready.
I run.
still so close you come—
all too embracing.
Tell you the truth,
I don’t want your open arms
to love me so hard,
I don’t think I will ever
be ready.