It is weird, how a whole person, five months of my life, most things I own, including happiness, can be packed away in a few minutes, a suitcase, some bags and a tiny carton.
How this room, that's been so extremely full of me, as a person, with all those feelings, memories, love, will be completely blank by tomorrow, filled with someone else's existence soon. Almost as if I've never lived here, except for some words on the wall and the scent of my deodorant in the air that will be fading soon enough.
Leaving this place will mean to leave her behind completely now.
I am ready.
YOU ARE READING
you could call it poetry
Poezjapoetry I. just a small collection of poetry, thoughts, excerpts and playlists... they get better after a while ☆ please do not forget to vote if you like it ☆ please do not steal
