Red-haired Writer
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Late at night you always cross my mind
The What Ifs consume me
You could have been something great
Something I want to remember
What we could have been is what haunts me
Knowing I did nothing wrong and that you didn't love me is what keeps me up at night
I wish it haunted you.
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Shivering all alone with not even a ghost in sight. Dying flowers and the smell of chamomile fill the air. The widow mourns for her lost...
You are always the first one to start a war Distracting me from the truth Keeping me at an arms length at all times Such a chaotic...
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