I'm broken
I have sharp ends
and though I desperately want to hug you
I'm afraid my spikes may cut through you
I know you want to help
I'm so thankful you landed me your hand
But again, my touch could harm you
So I will heal myself first
In order to be able to hold your hand
And smile happily at you again.
YOU ARE READING
3:21 a.m.
PoetryThis is a compendium of words, sentences, and paragraphs written at 3 in the morning heavily influenced by the sweet scent of rum and a kiss of loneliness. Although written with the sincerity of my heart, I should warn you: It is NOT really that goo...