I did not like her in the same way I liked my favourite snack,
or even my favourite TV show.
I didn't like her in any way a scientist could explain to me,
or my priest could tell me was right.
I feared to walk into my own church,
because I was raised to know that the man above would be mad.
That the man in the sky would send me down below,
for these feelings I get in the morning when I see her.
That the man upstairs would send me downstairs,
for getting butterflies in my stomach when she kissed me.
But I knew that I would rather be sent away,
than not have her around with me.
- v.m
YOU ARE READING
happiness + sadness.
PoetryWe write to write to escape what it is that is hidden in the deepest crevasses of our minds, to escape from the reality that brings us down, to forget that the world is sometimes terribly cruel. We write to get the words out of our heads that we ha...
