henniebear@kua

Our roads cross,

fate set in the stars.

When will our roads split?

Love written in the sea,

wind dancing with the storm.

Clinging to hope like moss,

We didn’t see what was ours.

“What happens beyond life?”

“What do you mean?”

“Like, after we die.”

“Well the point is that we don’t know.” 

“But what do you think will happen?”

“Why do the small things matter to you?”

I’ve never been asked this question, 

but I’ve thought about it numerous times. 

Why do they? 

It pains me not to tell you. I feel that I will explode, but surely, you won’t appreciate it. You won’t understand. You will be mad. Condescending.