I am sending you love. Real, warm love. The kind that wraps itself around you and warms you better than a fire in December. The kind that feels better than drinking hot coffee and watching the sunrise over the mountains.
Yes, you've hurt me. And no, I haven't forgiven you. But my god, who must have hurt you this badly? That you have the need to treat me like this, that you feel you have to tear me down every chance you get? So I am sending you love, because I've come to realize that to hurt others, you have to be hurt first.
YOU ARE READING
With Love
PoetryLetters, poems, and other short stories about life, love, being hurt, and basically everything that runs through my (awkward) teenage mind.
