He confessed his love to me in the lower commons at school.
He confessed his love to me outside, on school grounds.
He confessed his love to me under the hobo's bridge.
Three young men.
Three different life times.
Three lies.
Three confessions.
One girl.
One woman.
One truth.
One lost hope.
Four broken hearts.
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Author:
Adrianna Kjeld (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: August 22nd, 2017 18:06
- Comment from author about the poem: It hurts, not always, but today, it hurts.
- Category: Love
- Views: 14
Offline)
Comments1
A beautifully written poem, sad, but with a lot of meaning.
But, Adrianna, what the heck were you doing under the hobo bridge?!!!
Indeed.
Lol, we were trying to find a trail and we got lost, and we found a cute little bridge and we could tell a hobo lived there cause a tent was set up and there were cans collecting water, but he was no where in sight.
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