Genur.art

Yesteryear, Hearken back to the places we held in such great esteem, I loved you then with an intensity I do not think you will ever be capable of understanding, Now that sentiment is nought but a faded glow, The misalignment of perspective is oft a volatile addition to the cocktail of romance, Ultimately we all dwell in our own minds, They say we are born alone and we die alone, But I fear never to have known anything else