You go away from home to find yourself. I took sips and then I took gulps. I poured this down my throat and the edges of the earth blurred.
I lost bits of myself on the street.
A piece of oil on the concrete; a tiny sliver when I kissed you.
You don't find yourself. You walk around pretending to be an adult and you leave bits of yourself in boys mouths.
And they take part of you into their palms.
YOU ARE READING
Dear Diary it's 4:48AM.
PoetryI should have been tucked into bed almost six hours ago. I should only be waking in as little as two hours from now. Where does time go? Why do i do this to myself? Dear Diary, it's 4:48AM and yet once again i am awake over thinking every last thing...
