He's killing me...
Every ounce of jubilance I obtain in our correspondence
Everything I believed in...
is gone
And I don't have anything left
Nothing to place in his empty hands
I just wanted to be his friend
Why he didn't tell me I would love him
Why must I suffer in the loudness of his silence in the mist of his failure to be present
// e.b.
YOU ARE READING
THE FUNDAMENTALS OF A REALIST
PoetryA collection of my thoughts in poems that reflects my life before, after, and during being associated with my first love as well as my creative impulses. a poetic photograph of May 2015- October 2015. ***BEWARE PROFANITY***
