i wasn't okay. i was broken into pieces.
until you held me.
it's as if during the night while i slept between your arms, you held the pieces together until they healed.
you acted as my stitches. as if this pain inside me was a gaping wound and you were what i needed to get fixed.
im gone now, my stitches got ripped out and the progress we made while you held me, fixed me, will be gone. until next time.
until the next time i find comfort in your warmth enveloping me, ill tear apart again.
YOU ARE READING
cry for love
Poetrya compilation of dumb, cringy poems ive written during my journey with convincing myself im loved. ive spent the last year or so of my life hating myself and believing that most others feel the same way. so if you want some insight on how that feels...
