i knew your favorite color and your hatred for your dad but i could never quite put my finger on what your 3am thoughts were or why you were always drowning in scrambled thoughts and mixed feelings.
but here i am now, writing half drunken poetry on a school night. and moving onto other boys can't make me forget about you and shots of vodka that make me gag can't make my heart beat at a normal pace or sleep better at night. but what i do know is when you break all those promises you couldn't have possibly loved me as much as your midnight text messages and brilliant midday kisses expressed. because you were the first person to touch me the way you did but you most certainly won't be the last and the constant want to be with you forever is gone.
i don't ever want to see your fucking face.
and i thought loving you was all i needed but turns out you're not half as wonderful as i made you out to be but at least now i know to not make anyone that important to me because giving you the powers to make or break me with one sentence was the worst mistake i've ever made.
YOU ARE READING
forget.
PoetryThere is mention of depression, suicide and self harm in certain chapters in this book; if that bothers you in any way, please don't read. if you choose to, however, be warned. ~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~
