I kept a bottle in my bag, for a while
Of alcohol I was too young to have
but you were even younger and so
The responsibility was mine
to discard the evidence of our
Transgression
I wish I could discard the other
Evidence, the images in my mind
The stains on my sheets
Of bodies too young and too free
But not free enough
Because you were fifteen
And I was too much.
I talk about myself too much,
I'm sorry, sweetheart, but
It's the only way I keep myself
From talking about the things
I've done
The things we did when
there was no such thing
As too far
or too much
Because we were invincible
But invincible only lasts
For so long, once the magic wears off
And we start to realise
That the beats of our hearts
Weren't music to anyone but us
And maybe back then
That could have been enough
But you were fifteen
And I was too much.
YOU ARE READING
Hysteria
Poetrya collection of my poetry for the world to pick apart. warning: some of these poems contain themes of mental illness, self-harm, and attempted suicide. if these are likely to upset you, i would advise against reading.
