It's hard to explain your sadness repeatedly to people isn't it? It's hard making them understand the void in your chest and the black holes you constantly see in front of your bed.
It's hard to start a story telling about how you accumulated so much bubbles of hope that only turned into dispersing dead stars.
It's tiring to tell them to bear with you and understand your sadness when you can't even understand it yourself.
YOU ARE READING
POETRY THAT STAYS
PoetryYou don't really love someone, not until they become the person behind of your poetries. When poetry speaks, it echoes through your soul, lingers in your heart, and dances in your dreams. And... it stays. I wrote poems enough for people to ask, "w...
