it's like being trapped in your own mind.
your thoughts screaming at you.
but they are not the words to free you.
nothing is right.
you are desperate,
but only for him.
to be in his arms.
to feel his heartbeat.
to look into his eyes.
but you know as soon as you
look into his eyes,
they will no longer be filled with love;
but bursting with hate.
-k.d.
YOU ARE READING
life as we know it
PoetryBeing a poet is like being really sick. But instead of vomit, words come out. This is my word vomit.