And it is so funny, and it is so ironic. Out of all these people, out of all these people who claim to be my "friends", who claim to "love" me - I cannot ask a single one about this. It is a delicate matter. I do not expect them to understand, simply because they don't.
But you.
You are the gayest person I know. You like to ask me about gay porn stars, even though I know you dislike porn(you said it made you lazy). You've almost slept with a guy, in his house, with his parents in the next room. Lana Del Ray is your religion and she makes you feel so sad you can't put it into words. You're a mess, you should be the last person I should trust enough for this and yet -
You're the one that helped me pray.
YOU ARE READING
Bleeding Hearts
Poetry"You either get it down on paper or jump off a bridge." - Charles Bukowski Just snippets of stories I can't seem to get out of my head. All cover credit goes to the wonderful @mydearcc
