I write a new dependency's name onto a prayer
Set him aflame after I fold him into thin paper
So, he can ask me if I know how to play the three guitars, I have piled up in my room
While we talk to each other as if we are once again stuck in our awkward youths
A Souvenir of his rests in a tin heart shaped box
And I die a little bit inside when he changes the tone in which he talks
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YOU ARE READING
Accepting what I cannot
PoetrySynopsis After years of unresolved trauma, I have decided to write a book consisting of poetry that I have written in some of my deepest moments of self-reflection. Some bittersweet, others uncensored with raw emotion. I mention both the strugg...
