There was a time when I used to say I didn't want flowers,
But then I looked for the one who would buy it for me regardless,
I cared about the overlook of my words and the want of my smile,
I used to care about the little extra things and they used to be there,
Then it all stopped and I guess I adapted, or maybe I never had them,
It could all have been just a dream I lived while in life,
But now as everything is real as me and you, and there is no us,
I can't help but be anhedonic and pretend that I care than otherwise.
Sometimes it's better for us to pretend to care about small things that get done than pretend not to care about the little things that don't.
YOU ARE READING
The Darkest Shade Of Black
PoetryAbout that shade of black that's darker, deeper and stronger. About a black so mean that it scared death away. About the blackness in my heart that seeks to all the bright. About a black so overpowering that it degrades all smiles. About T...
