NEXT CHAPTER

Your words sear my soul Like a serrated knife into a crisp cold apple They grind my spirit into oblivion. My thoughts are now a mess, My mind clasped on the horns of dilemma. For ages I longed for true love But that's a myth of the Old Likely meeting you was in the land of Nod. As fate and destiny vetoed against us. Parallel we now lie, just a memory I hold A fresh start you seek Humble beginnings you'll reach But a scar forever remains And the fire continues to burn Pray it doesn't consume you. Only to leave a dried husk