Becoming a phantom,
I hope the feeling of my touch lingers.
I hope the void of my presence haunts you.
I hope you can hear my voice in the back of your mind.
I hope the thought of my ghostly-pale skin chills you to the bone.
I hope you can't look at anything that reminds you of me without missing me.
After all, you were the one who killed me.
And even after all that, you're the one who's dead to me.
- you told me to stay with you.
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.
