I'm afraid to tell you how I feel.
I feel that you're done.
Done talking to me,
Done holding my hand,
Done smiling at me,
Done hugging me tight,
Done sleeping next to me.
Just done with me.
It's a feeling I've felt many times, from a lot of different people.
And I'm scared to death, that the feeling is going to end up just like it did all of the other times.
With you gone, and me not being so done.
YOU ARE READING
Paper Planes
ŞiirLetters to him disguised as paper planes. I always think of you. Sincerely, Yours. 《Poems about my first love》