10:50, the 16th of October on a Friday
the crease in your forehead when you're confused has so many lines that a fortune teller could've read them and given you the answers that you were seeking.
somebody broken. somebody beaten and bare. somebody defeated and somebody unaware; of the impact of love and the repercussions too. of the impact of a whole heart that has been half used and disposed of by you
i'm trying to find my feet; darling do you know where they've been? stuck on a street with no regards to names, heading south for you babe
but i don't finish anything i start; i think that's why i left you. we became too over complicated, darling that's the truth. i drop them and i leave them and i throw them in the dirt; they're better off they grew. i don't finish anything i start and i think that's why i left you
they once said all the great writers only truly ever spoke about their moments of sadness and depression so that must make me horrible at the trade since the majority of my writing is of my moments with you.
heartache in my chest. i've got a feeling that you cursed me when you said that i was blessed. you created a memory and i've got a feeling that you liked it more than you ever did like me but you whispered it all away, pretended you couldn't hear the white noise that you had output each day. you dug a whole in my grounds. you filled it with rubble and you filled with awful sounds. heartache in my chest. i've got a feeling that you cursed me when you said that i was blessed.
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...
