all my life i have pretended to be the strong one,
but i'm not the hercules i claimed to be.
your love was the light i needed to remind me i was living
now i am lonely in the fact that i desire to be deserving.
i'm sick of the silence that has now
greeted me
that your velvet mouth has left.
i told the beaver eyed man not to despair,
i still had art in me yet
because
despite pretension,
everything you said was a poem
and though
we were once nine years old
that's still how you remember me.
when we walked through the streets you told me you were happy now,
and i'd want you back
but i feel as if i live alone.
those that hated you had never been in love,
and those that loved you still light candles in hopes of burning you away.
i want to know who it was you once thought of,
but i realized that i hated you
and that i've never been in love.
YOU ARE READING
horribly beautiful ✔️
Poetrypeople write about things that do not happen. they will romanticize this world in hopes of filling themselves up. they write like their words are food. but i have always written to empty myself completely. i will romanticize feeling nothing. jun...
