I am writing in my notebook with the blood pouring from my wrist as my ink is not working.
Crying in your black sweater
In the back of the taxi.
Drinking the blood coming from my wrist and still writing
Because in the end, my poetry got my back.
I am cursed don't you know.
The blood is still pouring from my wrist,
I like the color
Can you get me a dress in this color?
It is a different kind of red.
Do you think I am a fucked up?
If you even think I am fucked up you should have thought earlier before you touched me with your magical hands.
The darkness in your eyes has made me deep into an ocean in which I couldn't swim.
Swimming, swimming how far will I go
Will I reach your heart like that?
The pink color of your heart will match the dress I wore to look cute for you
Because you hate the color black and think it is too dark for someone to wear,
Well, my darling you should know that I have been made of every dark mistake my parents created me into.
Don't I deserve a shoulder to cry on?
Don't I deserve your shoulder to cry upon?
And your white shirt turning red with the color of the blood coming from my wrist
and as you put me in your lap and
Hugged me tightly as you were rocking me back and forth.
Well did I imagine that also of your love covering me and protecting me?
The kisses you covered me with and how you protected me from my demons
Did I imagine that also?
It never happened to me?
The shadows dancing in my room of two people similar to us
But it never happened right
We, us never happened right?
We are fiction, right?
YOU ARE READING
To The Person I Loved And Lost
PoetryTo the girls with trust issues, to the girls who are always the poet never the poem, to the girls who are always the angel never the God, to all the girls of illicit affairs(swifties),to the girls who are always the other woman,to the girls of "you...
