Too Often Too Late

Courtesy: Pixabay
She realized
too late,
after thought had returned
and her lungs refilled,
that he might have
been The One.

The problem was,
he was a stranger
and gone,
the moment another cruel moment
courtesy of her introverted,
demisexual self.

In an age
where rushing
meant falling behind,
she struggled with trust,
with sorting through emotional complexities
until it was too late.

©May 2021
Christina Anne Hawthorne

About Christina Anne Hawthorne

Alive and well in the Rocky Mountains. I'm a fantasy writer who also dabbles in poetry, short stories, and map making. My Ontyre tales are an alternative fantasy experience, the stories rich in mystery, adventure, and romance. Alternative fantasy? Not quite steampunk. Not quite gothic. In truth, the real magic is in those who discover what's within.
This entry was posted in Poetry and tagged , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s