i slipped into dresses that were shorter. ones that hugged me tighter than he did.
i called him completely sober and blamed the alcohol that wasnt running through my veins.
i wrote his name over and over and called it poetry.
i dressed in black at weddings.
i slept in strangers beds and screamed at love. you're not the only one who can destroy me.
i can destroy myself too.
YOU ARE READING
permanently unfinished.
Poetrywe write our feelings on paper because we have no one to turn to when our vision is blurred by tears and our chests are crushed with sadness.
