The way I love you is ugly.
The way you consume my thoughts makes me angry.
The way I crave your company churns my stomach.
I hate the way my hand fits in yours; it's like they were molded to be intertwined, crafted by a higher power for this purpose.
I have never believed in fate,
but it keeps pulling us closer, and I am the friction.
I will forever be quick to deny and late to accept what is.
YOU ARE READING
Euphemism
Poetry"I believe that maturity isn't dependent on age, But rather the severity of the trials the mind and heart have undergone." Growing up comes with so many challenges that can be uncomfortable and confusing. We're all thrown into the ocean and expec...
