I don't know. I guess the saddest part of it all is that I don't know how to feel about this. I love you so much but you break my heart every time you get that chance. I've let you in and you know all my pressure points. You know how to make me hurt. You know that you can get away with anything you want because I'm so scared of you leaving. And if you read this, this is to you.
I know how you feel. I don't know how you hurt her but you did and I'm sorry. I'm so fucking sorry, but don't you think about how you're hurting me? You hurt me more than you've hurt her and I want to kill myself don't you get that? I want to fucking die because I love you. You're killing me and I can't handle this anymore. I'd rather die than stay here and have to think about how I'm useless and no one will ever love me. I'd rather put this gun to my head and pull the trigger. Maybe that's what I'm going to do.
— z.s // Excerpt From A Book I'll Never Write #6 // to the boy I love, I'm dead, but I hope you read this
YOU ARE READING
Excerpts From A Book I'll Never Write
Poetryex·cerpt noun ˈekˌsərpt/ 1. a short extract from a film, broadcast, or piece of music or writing. • all excerpts are mine unless stated otherwise ranked #427 in poems ranked #10 in excerpts
