I know, our relationship wasLike a poem without rhymeStill, its heartbeatRefuses to fade with timeOne last hug, one last kissOne last cuddle, one last...danceOne last smile, one last laughOne last memory, one last chance…I miss you .Every time I look at our picturesI wonder why we ruined such a good thingIt is almost like we deliberatelyClipped off our own wingsOur love may be a lost causeBut the memories still remainI wouldn’t have it any other wayEven if it hurts and painsI miss you .If I had. He simply made his way to the door of her studio and when he arrived, he knocked. He sat down on the step and stretched his toes in his damp socks, wondered about blisters. In those few moments on her front step he sought for poise and as though to mock him, it started to rain. The experience of stopping was rendered more sharply into his experience of the night, the cooling down more pronounced. They almost paved the way for regret. Almost.And then the door opened.Bingo bounced to his burdened. More

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