Some day I'd like to be as happy as I pretend to be. As happy as I used to look before everything around me crashed to the ground inch by inch.
But I can't be, won't be, this is my karma. This is my karma for all the bad things I've done all for my love of him.
Sometimes I sit and think of all the things that wouldn't have come to fruition had I just said no to his offer of dinner.
I wonder how different my life would be without him in it. Most times I think it would've been better.
But then this dagger feeling in my chest reminds me of all the good he's done for me, to me.
And perhaps, this karma, this pretending to be happy when he's not near was, and is still, worth every aching moment of darkness clinging onto my lungs stealing my breath.
After all, he will always be worth my life.
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Poems From My Mostly Dark Places
PoetryThis is just a collection of things I jot down while I'm in a dark place. Not all of them will be dark, but most will be. That's generally when I'm creating at my best. A lot of them won't be very long either, I tend to get stuff out in just a few w...
