Now you think it does not matter
How you look and that they
Would have wanted you anyway.
You're hands down beautiful,
But maybe it is not enough.
Wait and see the years pass
Until you will be neither fair nor fine
And the only one who'll still be
Desperate enough to love you
Will be me.














Comments
--
It is the spectator, and not life, that art really mirrors! Oscar Wilde.
--
Thou canst not speak of that thou dost not feel.
I was not sorrowful but only tired
Of everything that ever I desired.
Will be me.
That is an absolute fantastic ending to that poem. I really do like this, more than I can say.
--
Yet I am not sorry that I loved youah! what else had I a boy to do,
For the hungry teeth of time devour, and the silent-footed years pursue.
--
Thou canst not speak of that thou dost not feel.
I was not sorrowful but only tired
Of everything that ever I desired.
--
Yet I am not sorry that I loved youah! what else had I a boy to do,
For the hungry teeth of time devour, and the silent-footed years pursue.
Previous PageNext Page