warning: this isnt a poem. this is bullshit im writing bc its late and im fucking tired.
..
this is the start of a new year.
ironic, cuz i took that picture on new years.
but anyways,
i will take my time and smell each flower i pass,
stop to listen for the planes passing over my head.
i will enjoy each and every adventure, knowing that it will make a great story to tell you someday.
i look forward to
moseying down each and every road that i know,
in the end,
will lead me
right back
to you.
my face is draining of color and my heart is draining of seratonin,
i need
to sleep
before i
start
to cry.
i dont
want
to cry
on my
birthday.
i dont
want to
cry over
you again.
i just had a bomb ass day and here i am, still staring at the pictures.
i still havent put up that picture of you on my wall.
im scared to.
because in doing that, i really accept the fact that im not over you and i dont wanna do that.
im gonna do it right now.
brb.
...
*DEEP EXHALE*
wow. i did it.
ok.
i did that.
..
im going to sleep.
i have a party tomorrow and another on sunday,
both for me.
i need rest.
YOU ARE READING
idk if i can call this poetry
Poetrybook 2 this started out as just writing down my thoughts. poems, quotes and other random stuff. thats what this was supposed to be. instead, it had become a diary. a journal, almost. this is long lost lovers. this is heartbreak. this is one s...
