he learned my
secrets,
scars,
bruises,
flaws,
and then he left.
-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.
learned
he learned my
secrets,
scars,
bruises,
flaws,
and then he left.
-k.d.