15 December 2015

Home Could Be

By Bryan

I hate the goodbyes,
The see you in a year,
The prospect of home,
When home could be their.

I hate the not knowing,
Being able to share how we feel,
The thought of no you and i,
When we know how the other feels.

I hate the worry,
In you finding another,
and the uncertainty,
Of us never being together.

I hate not being able,
to see your smile.
The chance of not,
feeling you near.

I hate being in Scotland,
and you over their.
The only time together,
A few weeks every few years.

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