Victor,
your words they sting like poison.
i wish you'd notice how they hurt me.
i'm sorry i hurt you
but you need to tell me what makes your soul restless.
i'm sorry i flirted with that girl at the ice cream parlour.
but is that all that made you so mad?
is it me? is it us?
tell me why it is and i promise i'll try to fix it with my frail soul,
the best i can.
it hurts to not have your arms around me.
it's like i'm drowning and floundering without anyone there to pull me out.
please talk to me. it hurts when you don't.
love always,
Clement
"I'm sorry for not talking to you "
"that's okay you're here with me now right? that's all that matters to me. to have you close to me."
"i don't think this is working
anymore "
"Why?"
"i want you baby don't get me wrong but i get so tired sometimes. you're brilliant, absolutely brilliant but there are days i just can't keep up. i'm so sorry "
"please don't hurt me anymore. i can't take it"
"Clement look at me........ please baby just look at me "
"no it hurts too much. i can't."
x
i don't know if i should change my story from poetry to short story or not because the poetry is becoming obsolete in this story.
thank you for reading :)
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Translucère
Historia Cortatranclucère [ latin ] | trans-lu-cre | » to shine through » // translucent // not completely clear or transparent but clear enough for light to pass through *happens when incandescent badboy meets hapless poet* poetry/not poetry which has turned in...
