Dear,
How awful of you to toy with my feelings. Like a cat playing with string every time you speak you claw at my heart and leave it pounding restlessly for you.
How awful of you to know I cared for you, and to tease me and pretend to adore me as I do you.
Yet, I still hold your hand and help you through rough times in your life because I so naively care...
Though the fault is not to be placed entirely on you but I as well because I continue to endure the gnawing pain in my chest every time we communicate to ensure your safety and well being.
YOU ARE READING
My Dearest
PoetryThese are personal letters written to those I've loved, letters by which by no means are ever to be read by who they are intended for. Also rant/vent in here occasionally. I don't want comments on those chapters.
