I know I messed up.
I know it's my fault.
I know I caused it.
But it hurts even more when I can hear you,
talking about me,
without me there.
I know you're mad.
I know there's confusion.
I know questions need to be answered.
But I don't want to hear about it,
what I did,
in the third person.
I can hear you
in the night, when I'm unable to fall asleep.
I listen to retelling of my mistakes,
and what you think, unable to defend myself from the hurt.
It's like you don't try to hide it,
how terrible I am, the sound reverberating off the walls.
I can't take this,
but I can't stop hearing it,
because you talk so loud.
This was written after I left the conversation.
7/14/19
YOU ARE READING
Feelings, maybe?
ŞiirI have been writing down my feelings after any event that I had been emotionally affected by. They come out as slightly cryptic, half-poems, so I guess I'll post some of them here. Most of them will have dates because I might not post them in order.
