"I was always so consumed
Of the idea,
Of the question,
Of how someone could love me.
And as he whispered to me
Those three words
I both longed and loathed to hear,
Rather than repeating
"I love you"
Back to him,
I asked him
"Why?"
And he looked down towards the ground,
Inhaled a deep breath,
And turned away.
Leaving me to unravel
The mystery that he was.
But maybe the mystery was me."
~a.n.n.
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Hello
PoetryA collection of poems and stories for the broken, lost, afraid, recovery, heartbroken, depressed, and many more. *Trigger warning possibly for some of these*
