8:12am, the 3rd of July on a Friday
// lame jokes and high hopes: i'm afraid that i'll never find anyone who understood me like you did, nobody that will know when i'm telling lies or not saying that i'm fine. not having anyone make stupid lame jokes in hopes to get me to laugh instead of cry. //
// writing: i spilled my secrets onto pages instead of into you and it felt so wrong. i feel that no matter how hard i try i can't deny that i'd rather tell you how i feel in any way but a song. //
// sweater weather: i just want to feel the scratchiness of your favourite jumper and i'd happily suffer red and blotchy skin and infinite dreams of fabric softener than the thought of someone else wearing it. //
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...
