Dear Little,
I've been sitting here replaying the words we cut eachother with. I've been sittng here wondering if it really got better, if either one of us is okay and I know now. I know that these words I type, even though they wont reach your eyes, won't help. They won't change the fact that when I see you I want to wrap my arms around your perfectly curved wasit and press you against me. They won't change the fact of your eyes being the ones I look for in a crowded room, in my crowed mind. I look for you in places I'll never see you. I look for you in dark corners, under tables, directly in front on me and I still can't find you. I can't find you, with me.
I've been sitting here thinking about you. I've been debating if when I see you if I wrap you into to me for if I keep you at arms length. I'm scared of you. I'm scared of what will happeen if I let you in again. The problem is I genuinely want you. I want the you at 2am when you can't sleep and the nightmares are becoming real. I want you at 10am when you are tired from the night before. At 2pm when your energy is running on fumes and fake smiles. At 10pm when your eyes are so heavy that sleep is your only friend. I want you and all your innocents. I want to hold you while you cry, laugh with you till you cry, smile with you when thats the only thing left. I want you and all of your self-hate, anger, and love. I simply want you. You will never know that. You won't see these words, mainly because you won't want to. These words won't fix the fragile friendship we have it will break it.
It will break us.
Sincerely, I still care.
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...
