You told me a few years ago that I was beautiful
Back then i didn't think so, and I told you this in reply.
You told me to believe in myself. That I needed to believe it.
I didn't believe it. Not then
At a moment of my life, I finally had felt like I was me again. I called you and I told you that I had finally found the feeling of beautiful. I said I felt beautiful.
You said,
You're too full of yourself.
How was I so full of myself if I was so full of you ?
When you had completed me the most?
You left me on the other end of the phone, in disbelief, drained of the only light I thought I would ever have.
I thought I had been beautiful.
And now,
Because of you,
Not even in the inside
YOU ARE READING
storms and blood
Poesiathe death of which is unknown -figured out between the lines of within these pages
