telling you this, hurts:
you were never good for me, and it hurts,
because i devoted so much time to worship you yet all my prayers were for nothing.
telling you this, hurts:
i kept coming back, and it hurts,
because each time i knew it'd end in ruins, but i was too naive not to explore what had been discovered already.
telling you this, hurts:
your love was fake, and it hurts,
because you only said i love you after the bed had been worked and stained in those unholy acts of us.
love hurts and so does this:
letting go of you has been hard, and it still hurts,
because any sign you give of coming back excites me when it shouldn't.
love hurts and so does this:
forgiving you has been hard, and it still hurts,
because whenever we talk as if though things are okay, i silently cry for all the pain you caused before.
love hurts and so does this:
realizing that what we had wasn't love has been hard, and it still hurts,
because the idea of love was stained by your infatuation and obsession with me and us coming back out of lust never truly fit the description of said idea.
love hurts but it really doesn't:
you and i never loved each other and it hurts,
because what we both thought was real, turned out to be fantasy.
YOU ARE READING
𝗣𝗼𝗲𝘁 𝗠𝗲 𝗔 𝗣𝗼𝗲𝗺
שיריםa collection of letters, poems, and short stories from deep within, a little addiction with it too; welcome to the emotions of the awkward teenage time we all once had.
