When I said my life was perfect,
I actually might’ve lied.
I lied again when I told you,
That I was entirely fine.
I lied when I told you,
When I said I’d be okay,
I also lied when I insisted,
That I couldn’t feel the pain.
And again when I said,
I wouldn’t miss you.
The only time I didn’t lie,
Is when I said I couldn’t live without you.
YOU ARE READING
Poetry of Me
PoetryThis is a continuation of Poured Out on Paper. Filled with happiness, love, anger, and lust, here's to another poetry book, and to a whole new adventure... (:
