7:00pm, the 22nd of June on a Monday
// opiate: he was my opium, my personal heroine; my drug. If anyone ever uttered the phrase that they'd prefer them less than hugs - well they've never tasted your lips, a sweet saliva and poison mix. they've never inhaled your scent, an intoxication in my sensory glands. they've never been in your embrace, a feeling indescribable so much so that, that's the reason no historian ever wrote you into their books as the kindest human in the world or described you as a heroic figure for all. i became addicted to this drug in him, and slowly and surely the high came down i became burnt out.
I'm 561 days clean. //
YOU ARE READING
if i don't say this i'll explode // a book of poetry
Poetrya book of poetry // because if i don't say this i'll explode, there's too much white noise in my head that needs to be transferred to the blank spaces in the sky and the unfulfilled breaths of the air we breathe. 20 year old girl from Melbourn...
