And I think to myself,
maybe I wasn't meant
to be loved by you.
But you never loved me,
did you?
Am I so hard to love?
Anxiety ripples through me
like the alcohol you spilled
on the floor that night.
I know I can be loved,
just not by you.
YOU ARE READING
Tacenda
Poetry|#1 in free verse| Tacenda (n.) things better left unsaid; matters to be passed over in silence Just a random collection of poems & thoughts. I hope that someone, somewhere can relate to what I was feeling when I wrote these and that they can know...
