You've been waiting to be confronted by this certain little someone
You've been preparing for it
Because you're sick of being used and stepped on and walked over.
You have every word you've ever wanted to say on the tip of your tongue, sprouting like flowers in your lungs, screaming to to be heard.
Your emotions bubbling, rioting, and clawing at the wall of your chest, slowly enclosing their claws around your rapidly beating heart, feeling everything at once as you see the person you've been waiting for, unknowing of the pain they've caused you.
And then they ask "hey, we're friends right?" and your response is quieter than the squeak of a mouse, a tired, breathless,
"I don't know..."
YOU ARE READING
empty nights
Poetrythis is what's really happening behind your bedroom door, what you feel but can't express without being seen as strange. don't worry, cause darlin I'm a mess too.
