Worse.
Yet which is worse?
The cravings of love, or the cravings of acceptance.
I can feel the upmost heartbeats shaking your chest,
Vibrating my lungs.
Rattling the air out of me.
We're supposed to be in love.
But all we ever do is drip tears down one another's clothes.
As we struggle for a bit of power between these two bodies.
YOU ARE READING
We Called it Love.
ŞiirA collection of tales written by a depressed poet. Inspired by the boy who promised he'd never break her. These are the faults in my heart.
