I've tried running from you till my lungs collapse, but I feel as though I'm stuck in time, and the only thing moving is me.
How can I move forward when the thing I want is quite literally right in front of me?
How can I move forward when your face is one of the first and one of the last I see in my days?
We hardly talk anymore, and perhaps that's why I'm still holding on.
I hold on to every word you speak, stringing on and hoping, praying that you've got more to say to me- that I'm worth more to you than just a sentence or two.
Each and every day, I tell myself "maybe today, yes, today we can go back to normal, if he lets us."
I know for a very fact that I was not the only one who felt something that night, and it wasn't the lights.
No, feeling the ironic warmth in your chest and cheeks around Christmas time was not something I confused with how you made me feel.
I know this for a certainty.
Hell, you lit up brighter than any Christmas lights I've ever seen just from talking to your friend about me.
My question is, when are you going to stop pretending?
When are you going to come back to reality?
YOU ARE READING
her revelation (journal entries)
Poetryjournal entries containing poetry and thoughts about all three people i've been in love with, along with some traumas and self-loathing sprinkled in-between.
