I mastered the skill of projecting my sweetest smile while breaking down within; acquired the talent of laughing so loud, when in fact I am mourning deep inside of me.
I got used to pretending that even I can no longer differentiate euphoria from melancholy.
I got so familiarized with feigning to the max that once I look at myself at the mirror, I do not know if the person upfront of me is sad or happy.
YOU ARE READING
POETRY THAT STAYS
PoezjaYou 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...
