I used to cry over this man.
Now it mostly feels like disgust—
because I know
that if I had been okay,
I wouldn't have looked his way twice.
It's strange, really.
I can still see his face,
clear as ever—
but his name
never stayed with me.
YOU ARE READING
Every part of me
PoetryThis book took years to begin. Not because I lacked words, but because I lacked the courage to open my heart. To my readers- this is my soul, laid bare. Every page holds a piece of me: my vulnerability, my joy, the moments I loved deeply, and the gr...
