I loved you from the start.
You left me in the dark,
to feed off of what you shattered apart.
Love sick,
looking for anything that'll finally fit.
Playing out your darkest fantasies,
hoping it'll finally stick.
Why must you always hit me where it hurts the most?
I knew from the start,
it was never worth the cost.
She gets your very best,
I had to live with your pathetic tests.
Now I see the rest,
playing out til the bitter end.
YOU ARE READING
The Journal
RandomLetters from a boy who felt at one point or another alone. Who wrote as a way to find a new voice. These are things he wished he could've said. Things he should've claimed. And now will be saying. These are words that come from a place of hurt and...
