Dear Little,
I love you and you love him. You don't get it. I don't get it. We don't get it because you love him and I love you. So I'm sitting here confused and pacing this emtpy house. A metaphor for my mind when I can't let anyone in. You kissed me...no no. I kiss you I held you against me then pressed you between me and a wall. So close that not even air could get through. So hard that I could tell which heart was beating harder. I held your neck as our lips played Tetris with eachother reminding us that good things disappear and mistakes add up, but you, you are not a mistake no you are the girl that loves him. You are the girl I let build me up just to unknowingly push me down when you run to him. You are the girl that feeds an already dead heart and some how the food keeps disappearing. You are the girl all the songs are about and none can add up to. You are the girl that will break me, no that did break me. So here I am listening to a song that I played the first time I ripped my skin because loving you is kinda like that. Unhealthy and will probably end in tears and blood but bleed my second place heart dry and hang it up to dry only to watch it shrink into the pendant you where around your neck. Wear it like I lost it willing and unafraid. You see you love him and I love you. So I sit here listening to this song and I remember the first time I ripped my skin and how it wasn't enough. Like how I am....not enough.
Sincerely, second best
YOU ARE READING
Letters Unsent
PoetryI've always been told that I'm good with words. The main problem is that I don't always know how to say the words I'm so good with. I find it hard to speak so i perfer to write them. Sometimes i write them in hopes it will reach the one it's to. Oth...
