She isn't used to me like she used to.
I don't know what to say,
I might ache my heart more
In, finding myself.
I love you
And I truly do.
Now, you don't
Just as my distance for a while
Prophesied.
Dedicated to preciousooi
YOU ARE READING
Dead Letters
PoetryWe are Afraid. The supposed Ones with bravery of hearts are weakened because of affection. Now we lay low on succulent beds and Undercovers. These are my honest Dead Letters.
