for the moment; will you stay? for an inkling of time, even half, would you sit by me? sometimes, droplets of water soothe my throat, allowing me to call out to you. maybe, for a quarter of a second, i could feel a little better. do you like spending time with me? me, and my sensitive self. operating like a cactus, the prickles of my heart threatening to stick you. this cactus needs too much water, too much to bother with. so why is it that you still show up with the watering can, and sit by me, prickles and all? doesn't it hurt, to be constantly pricked by the spines?
--
YOU ARE READING
spent and silenced
Puisiits a book filled with vignettes and shit i write occasionally lmao
