dear love of my life,
why did you do it?
you made me hate myself.
you've made me think that it's my fault.
it's not, it's all on you.
when you turned up at my house with flowers, my favourite chocolate and an album.. my heart felt so broken.
because i had realised what you had done was so severe and i would not and could not forgive you.
but i still let you in, i still let you into my fucking house. i let you hold me in your arms again, i guess to stop me from hurting myself.
that's the only reason i'm here..because you stopped me.
you held me in your arms tonight and kisses my forehead ever so gently.
you tucked my hair behind my ear and whispered;
"im never leaving you baby girl.. ever"
why do make me feel like this?
i am putty in your hands.
i haven't hurt myself for two days now.
the scabs are drying and slowly becoming scars.
it seems every time i am tempted, you turn up at my door
after you left, i looked through the album and it was filled with pictures of us. we were so happy.
well, i was. i'm not quite sure about you since you did what you did.
i thanked you many times for coming round, for keeping me company.
i haven't gotten my period for three months now, i haven't slept with anyone else other than you.
thank you for the roses, thank you for the amazing night tonight.
are you bored of me yet?
- josephine
