Here's the thing; I can write you down as much as I like, I can squeeze all the ink out of every pen, and go blind with the glare of computers and blame. I can scream out all the weakness in my knees, and tattoo the shade of your irises onto the backs of my eyelids. I can pick you,
smile by smile, out of my brain cells and deny that I ever loved anyone this intensely. I can choose to remember every word you say because no one has ever made me forget my own name. But see, there will always be someone sweeter, won't there? Someone else who gets to occupy your restless love and fit into the mould of your chest. I promise that I've been trying, my love, to make peace with that fact but it has arrogantly proven to be the only can't.
YOU ARE READING
A Change Of Heart
PoetryHealing isn't the easiest thing for me to do. I've tried to find it in between pages and rib cages. In loud rooms and the quiet of racing heartbeats. In poetry and rage. In that space between childhood and growing pains. In apologies that I refuse t...
