I tell strangers about you, but only the times we were happy. I paint a picture of you where you didn't leave a knife in my back. I've become so good at it that I learnt to believe my own lies. And when they say how beautiful our love story is, I just smile and wonder if you tell strangers about me.
YOU ARE READING
Recovery
PuisiWritings that helped me recover and will hopefully help you. Some might be mine.
