Sometimes I think about you.
The way we left things makes me feel black and blue.
My words, a punch in your face.
Your words, a punch to my gut.
I apologized.
But I know I can't make you accept it.
I can't make you see that I'm sorry.
You don't see.
You think I'm playing a twisted game.
But I'm not.
I am simply trying to let go.
If I hold on I'll end up dead.
I'm letting go.
And I, I owe you nothing.
YOU ARE READING
AFTER HOURS
PoetryI have come to realize that the after hours are when I am truly and fully open with myself. In, the night I am left alone with thoughts that are both cheerful and dark. After Hours is a collection of thoughts and poems inspired by the night and the...
