I like you.
You like me. At least that's what your vibes tell me.
I trust you, sometimes. You trust me, sometimes.
You tell me everything.
I'm more selective.
I don't mean to come off stand-offish, habits.
I wanted time out, I didn't want to snap or hurt you or use you as a punching bag.
Not that I don't trust you. It's just that you're fragile. You have so much already stocked up and it's like everyone I ever meet is broken in some way and I find it impossible to unload my hurt into them.
You're one of them.
Sorry. I'm babbling. We're talking about me too much.
Anyways. I'm sorry. I pushed you out. I hurt you unintentionally.
Now I don't know how to make it right?
YOU ARE READING
Words.
PoetryTo be completely honest, it's just a load of randomly plucked words from the air, infused together with some punctuation and their job is to represent the bunch of emotion I, - a tired, caffeine filled, late night worker- threw together in hopes tha...
