I don't know. I wish you didn't hurt me. I wish I could go back to those days I wasn't yet scarred. I wish I could stop at that day and just stay there.
Because because of it, I carried this pain. I could be happy, hell I could feel happier than I ever was— but there's this part of me, an area inside of me that throbs.
It doesn't stop hurting. It doesn't stop hurting. I think you damaged me, and I couldn't reverse it. I couldn't escape it. I wish you didn't hurt me, like you promised me.
Do you remember? I wish I could forget."
YOU ARE READING
POETRY THAT STAYS
PoésieYou 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...
