{And he made
You feel wanted
He made you
Feel nice.
But you knew it
Was fake,
False, deep down,
You could see he was ice
And although I hope
I made him feel nice for
A while too,
You can forget him
I don't need him
anymore.}
(Written on Page 81 at a later date.)
YOU ARE READING
Petrichor
PoetryWe grow old eventually {here are the waking thoughts that consume me}
