Hades,
I know why I didn't want to stay. Your words were way too perfect. Your faults were livable, but I don't want that.
I think of you often, almost too often for comfort. I'm hoping you're well, despite an accident I heard about.
I feel that's why I wanted to cut everything out from this chapter of life-- almost everything was hearsay. I could never trust a single word anyone said, and I trusted half the words you spoke. Not because you're not reliable, but because I felt unease of how easy those words slipped out of your mouth and into my ears. I sound like a hypocrite, and I am. I know how horrible I've acted, how my actions have crippled trust and any relationship of any kind. I doubt you will ever come to terms with me on the matter, and that I've accepted.
With that, I want you to know that I'm still growing. One hand grows Belladonna, the other grows honeysuckle. One day, I hope to have willow for hair, and sycamore for legs.
X, Kore
YOU ARE READING
Dear Mr. Nobody
PoesíaMr. Nobody is the feeling when you don't know what you're feeling; that sense of being outside of yourself. These are random letters to it and other Feelings. *MAY BE TRIGGERING*
