It's been a month, a fucking month, since you left. You left, you promised me we'd always be friends and you never spoke to me again. Everything was on your fucking terms and you still managed to go against your word.
***
The only communication we've had in the last four weeks was an argument and a pity fuck. Doesn't that just summarise 'us'.
***
It's painful to know that I'll never be able to put into words how I feel now. I love you and you left me. That's okay, my heart is broken but, it's okay. But all I'm left with, is an idea of who I'm supposed to be. It's been so long since I've had to be 'just me' that I can't remember who I am anymore. I want to be happy but I don't want to get hurt again. I am stuck in the mindset of the looming apocalypse. Happy=hurt, if you open yourself up to happiness, you open yourself up to pain also. I don't think I can cope with a another heart break when my heart is barely beating now. Your green eyes and stupid fringe fucked me up but I can't help but feel for the one that pulled me through, the one with blue eyes, lopsided smile and gentle voice.
***
I am the master of making bad decisions.
***
I get drunk, I cry, I get drunk, I cry. I am an endless cycle of self deprivation.
YOU ARE READING
Confessions of a shitty poet.
ŞiirSome of my poems contain bad language/sensitive issues and therefore I have changed the setting to mature and issue a trigger warning. I am forever updating this book, it will probably never be finished.
