It's funny how I eat my feelings
And you don eat at all.
My thigh always growing
Yet yours don't exist.
I can feel your waist fading,
Your eyes sinking in,
Whereas my waist cushions hands
And my eyes pop out
I don't know which is worse.
The fact that you're shrinking
Leaving more room for me
Or the fact that im growing out
Leaving less room for you.
YOU ARE READING
My Poetry
ПоэзияI'm amateur. I don't usually write, because I know everything I write is rubbish. But If I even get one read on this, I will be more than satisfied
