is it my fault?
you know what?
i did it.
i killed myself.
i dragged my own soul into hell
maybe
(only maybe)
i can't blame the sound
of your voice
(the one you make
when you're feeling tempestuous)
for breaking
all of my bones
because maybe
(only maybe)
i did it myself
and to myself.
i swear i'm still
mad at you
because you helped.
you're also guilty
for letting me do all those
bad things to myself
i swear i'm still
mad at you
but it's raining outside
and i'll let you in
because i want you safe
tonight
even though
it'll turn your blood white
i'm mad at you
and i've made myself a fool
too many times.
so today i'll let you in
to save you from
the cold air outside
and
it'll be the last time
maybe.
-e.g.
YOU ARE READING
cold fingertips (poetry)
Poetryi can hear you crying and i can hear us dying - a poetry book written by a shitty, fucked up girl - (i hope you can feel it as well as you can read it) Copyright © Todos os direitos reservados. Wattpad ™ sexOnDrugs ®
