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It's weird that I miss you.
I miss you even though I don't know you.
I can't give anyone even one thing that I know about you.
Because I have no idea who you are.
And I just have this feeling.
I have this emptiness.
And I don't know when it'll be filled.
When I'll see you.
When I'll meet you.
But I'm waiting.
For now I'll learn to be enough.
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YOU ARE READING
Finding Myself I ▽
Poetry"She painted her soul with words and displayed the pain for all to observe." Where a girl is learning how to love herself and the complicated life she lives.
