No.
No. I refuse to believe.
You. You. You are gone.
All that's left of you is the memory and that diary you left.
For me.
Is it too bad that I feel good?
Is it too bad that I feel relieved that there is nothing left of you, but the memory in which you are more than perfect?
And, you knew of my existence. And you left me a diary like I was someone special to you.
So, forgive me if I shouldn't feel good, but isn't it relieving that you have always been perfect and didn't let the world ruin you, so you ruined yourself?
Isn't it good, that you left as a good person, for good?
YOU ARE READING
Letters for her
PoetryThis is just my diary. A diary of a meaningless person with a meaningless life... Except for her, the girl I want to love so bad, yet I can't. Because she is art and art isn't meant to be loved. It's meant to be adored... Because, what really is art...
