"I love you... I love you... I love you..."
you whispered to me again
and again and again.
We were perfectly imperfect
from the beginning
of this so called
blissfulness illusion.
Memories that had been forged
and still waiting for more,
what are we really to each other?
And how could you
easily say
those words
when were
just on
borrowed
time.
©october
O