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It's something we face.
Every single day.
We feel like every time.
And kiss will fade away.
Those lips of yours.
They felt so cold.
But that was long ago.
When we were 7 years old.
Know I'm bipolar.
Look what you've done.
All those times.
Were hardly any fun.
You laugh. I cry.
You cry I cry.
You struggle.
Work's juggle.
I've been through hearthtrobs.
Epics, and sad times.
But this poem.
Has rhymes and rhymes.
You were seven.
I was eight.
That's when the love.
Inside was faint.
You switched schools.
Tried to change your name.
Then you went.
For glory and fame.
-For you-
heart