2:30 a.m.
I remember things as I forget them
such as the touch of someone's skin against mine
and how cruel it is to be kind
to be loved, to be cherished
in a way that is never enough
because the belief in satisfaction has become a blurred dream
a nightmare even because the second you taste it, nothing else is ever the same
you wonder if that was the peak of your life
the peak of the same desire you no longer crave
.s
YOU ARE READING
it's 5 a.m. now
Poetrya taste of everything that has made life a little more bitter and on rare occasions; a little sweeter | just an informal way to get thoughts out, i guess
