When you tell me that you miss me,
I do not know how to tell you that I wish we never met at all,
I can never be the girl you thought you knew,
and I never wish to be her either,
because you were in love with someone from your imagination,
and I can never make her up myself,
for I love myself far too much to dig into that hole.
I would rather have this empty space
than be the one looking for love in imaginary places.
belle
YOU ARE READING
The Poems I Wrote In My Leather Journal
PoesíaJust a place for me to share the poems I write inside of my leather journals. Let's read together... If you want to share any experience you have dealt with that made you feel less than who you are please message me. You should never have to deal w...
