this boy makes me want to sing and dance and paint and write poetry. this poetry would be filled with sketched hearts in the margins of the white paper, letters filling the blue lines because i have so much to say about the boy with the brown eyes. he's intoxicated me to the point of overdose, but it appears that his form of rehab is not responding to my idiotically desperate text messages and longing voicemails that i've left at four o'clock in the morning. he makes me want to wear daisies in my hair, and then rip the flowers to shreds with the glass i use to rip my own skin.
YOU ARE READING
poetry
Poetrythis is stupid poetry written by me about a boy. yes, love stories have come to be horribly mainstream. yes, the word love has been thrown around so much it hardly has meaning to some people anymore. but, if we've never experienced worse than heart...
