Ink Stained Soul…

The echoes of longing still carry your name. They have for so long that I fear they always will — and dread the day they finally stop.

One question twists in my heart, a pain that should never have to be felt: Why couldn’t you love yourself enough to love me?

In the way you carry yourself, you look like a man waiting for death, not trying to live a life.

I got moments when I was promised lifetimes.

Knowing my worth is the only reason I never asked you to love me. It should have been as easy as breathing.