You killed me in the most beautiful way. No longer can I; listen to my favourite songs, read my favourite books or watch my favourite films. Your name is engraved in them all. The memory of you now woven into the pages, scenes and lyrics. You are the epitome of why storms are named after people.
***
Spilt tears, spilt wine. I've done both so often since you left, I can no longer tell the difference.
***
Heavens full and Hell won't have me.
***
I love you, but you don't care. Closing my eyes won't stop the feelings, nor will it allow me to forget about them. I have to carry on living; without you.
Because, as harsh as it sounds, the world stops for no one.
***
Maybe the reason I write about you, is because I can't talk to you.
Maybe I give away my love so easily because I can't give it to you.
You won't take it.
YOU ARE READING
Confessions of a shitty poet.
PoëzieSome of my poems contain bad language/sensitive issues and therefore I have changed the setting to mature and issue a trigger warning. I am forever updating this book, it will probably never be finished.
