I want him.
He makes my heart flutter,
it has has come to the point where I fear I'd stutter;
curiosity's curse eats its way through,
My past still haunts me fro and to.
Blood lightly treads, so lukewarmly, over the softs of my cheeks.
The determination to avoid drawn out fantasy–
This fear of failure pressurizes the 'diamond'.
There's nothing to know,
nothing to feel
nothing to gain,
And only one way to heal-
I must know what's to hold in the future's possibilities.
Ask.
YOU ARE READING
Hurts
RandomJust a strange log that talks about the conflicting emotions I endure regularly. Let's get poetic.
