How ironic is it that we have this burning passion for eachother, but the passion for ourselves is nonexistent. We swear our love is true, but tell me: whens the last time you loved yourself? We were entwined with our broken souls and empty eyes. Maybe thats why i was so infatuated with you. The warmth of loving someone as cynical as me made me feel alive. Even when i didn't want to be. You made me feel alive. Even when i didn't want to be. We were just two kids who didnt know what it meant to feel happy in ourselves, but managed to make eachother the happiest people on the planet. Our suicidal tendencies got in the way of this rather lustful relationship. We were ironic, my love.
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Metanoia
Poetry"YOU LEFT BRUISES I CANNOT ERASE WITH FOUNDATION THIS TIME" These are just really shitty old poems tbh But i hope you guys are well c: © [Ranked #467 || poetry] [[Completed]]
