no, don't worry
it's fine, really
don't worry about it.
it's not like it matters much to me anyway
it's not like it matters that I haven't seen you all week,
and you couldn't be bothered to say I love you
over the phone
it's fine that you say
I'm not allowed over
but i see that all your friends are
it's fine that you leave me in silence when you call
and bother me when I, too, say nothing at all
it's fine that you mock
the small things i own,
fine that you call my sister a whore,
fine that you say you hate the people i love
and, oh, i suppose it's fine that you hate my dogs, too.
but that's all fine, i guess.
YOU ARE READING
The Lonely Hour
PoetryNot everything rhymes Not everything has to Of all that is bright And what hides in darkness The loving The hiding The living The Binding It hurts us not To follow a purpose To quell our minds dullness And to find our own fullness. Of sentences Of...
