when you go,
don't even think i'll
try and make you stay;
after you tasted my metallic blood
on your apricot tongue
you should have known
i'd want you to go
even when the only hope for me was you
i stood here,
covered in ash
hoping to be only a memory
wishing
the only hope for you was me
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...
