I spend hours upon hours thinking of what I could say. What words I could possibly string together to get a rise out of those lips.
I practically tear my brain apart trying to find the perfect set of vocabulary. I even burn your name into my skin.
But you don't like words.
YOU ARE READING
If You Can't Save Yourself
Poetrypoetry that has slipped between the noose and my neck; poetry from me, poetry to you.