Someone teach me how to become detached.
Teach me how to prevent myself from falling until I split my skull open.
Teach me to slam the door in the face of people that seep into the blackened crevices of this heart.
For I can no longer bear loving a stranger that will no more even make the effort to see me.
YOU ARE READING
Desolate Moon (SS 2)
Poetrymore exhibitionism, more emotional outbursts, more uncomfortably uncut honesty. TRIGGER WARNING.
