“Oft hope is born, when all is forlorn.”
"It's not the end of the world", is what I often tell myself.
Found out something that broke my heart in millions of pieces.
But what can I do?
I can only pick up the pieces, patch them up and move on.
A year. One whole goddamn year.
Regret is something that haunts you forever.
Move on? Easier said than done.
I'll try. But deep down I'm afraid it's a futile effort.
I'm not sad, I'm not heartbroken.
I cried them all out and now my heart feels empty.
No feelings, no fantasies.
Gosh I just wrote a poem.
The thing is I'm not alone.
I have my family, and Joclique.
For them, I'll do it.
