I’ll be miss here to stay but don’t worry I will be alright one day. Someday where my name is in your stack of hay, and I wish you well, really really well. and just know that I am one type away, one heart away, and one truth away. Cause I can’t unlove you babe, I am one call away and I hope that you’re okay. Standing there today on your bride and groom day, and I’ll be in the hay loving you from far far away
Way
I don’t like calling my art poems though much might say so, I never think that my silly little writings are ever good enough to be called “art” I always thought that, that would make actual poets felt invalidated. But if art is whatever the artist thinks is, then I’d like to think that this is art.
nana's corner 