I stare at it. I hold it in my hand. I sob. I sob at what they once were if they ever actually were. Perhaps it's all a lie. And I think back to leather bound love letters that broke my heart. And I stare at smiling faces and I stare at her. She's the most stunning I've ever seen her. She leaves me speechless. And I cry. At the fact that it didn't last. That perhaps the suspended moment captured is faux. And all that's real is only the paper upon which heartbreaking ink was written. But even those words weren't real. So what is?
YOU ARE READING
he/him/you
Poetry[completed] some half assed thoughts i've had about unrequited love and unnecessary hope shattering revelations
