This is a personal documentation through poetry.
I am learning to look inward now, give myself love when I least want to. I do not live to love others, I live to love myself. I will find and create what is enough for me, and you will learn to let it...
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Like repetition, like the surface of the moon. Promised to be pink, but instead a disappointing yellow. Consumption consumes me, And I force words down your throat. Almost as if I do not have any room to harbor them on my own. No platter, no silverware, No soap or water to wash my dirty mouth out. Just a deteriorating yellow drink in my glass, promised to be a sweet pink wine.
