I dreamed about you
two nights ago,
a false echo of
three hour phone conversations
he said he liked you
because you were honest,
said your words loud and bright and sharp and
jagged, never mind who it hit,
where it hit,
meteorites can only
fall,
he said you
didn't--
wouldn't--
couldn't--
care.
you were gentle though.
maybe that was a mercy,
maybe that was a mistake.
YOU ARE READING
Moving On
Poetrya collection of poetry about moving on, relationships, self growth, and emotions. "sixteen is learning you are better than you know, you are more beautiful than you know, it is picking up the pen and writing your own definitions."
