You and I were on fire on that night where fireworks soared through the night sky, almost as if they resembled the shaking of my hands and the earthquakes shattering through the ground as we danced to the beats of our own hearts, in a perfect well put together rhythm that only we knew.
I wish I knew how much you loved me at that specific moment, how your tight grip on my waist meant more to you than I thought it did, I really want to live that night one more time so I can look into every detail, every single second, I want to overthink every word you said- The meaning between the lines, the hints and the small things you did.
After we parted I said I won't miss you but I guess the fire between us was never put out, everyone has a story and you were the eye-catching plot twist in mine. You were the home I'm still trying to reach. I'd say I'm sorry for remembering you in every chapter I write, but I'm not. I'm not sorry that you can see yourself in every word I let out. I'm not sorry for keeping your memory alive.
To my firework, be safe.
YOU ARE READING
Emotional Torture.
PoetryCollection of poems and pieces written about daily struggles and tackling big world problems from the eyes of a teenager. Warning: Some chapters might be triggering. Triggers include: Suicide Eating disorder Self harm
