I'm tired.
Of hurting for you, for myself.
I'm sick.
Of hearing her happy while I cry.
Selfish.
I am – and, I hate it.
But, every time I wake up, my heart feels heavy.
And, I remember your great love only for her.
YOU ARE READING
Scribbled Letters
PoetryScribbled letters of my musings. Copyright ©️ 2021 Nina Paz