My fingers will never be enough to count how many times you whispered you love me most. Love me more than anyone in the world. Love me more than anything on earth.
How you want to have a home with white picket fence, where you and me and our four little kids will live with utmost happiness.
But then for ten long years of hearing your words, you’ve never climbed even the first step. Your dreams remain dreams, your words remain noises your tongue uttered.
I guess it’s now time to remove my cloak of hope. Maybe when I’m gone you can make your dreams more than a hope.
©2016 Rosemawrites@A Reading Writer