the heat of my shower water is almost turned up all the way, but yet i still feel cold.
didn't wash my face for three days.
didn't even get out of bed.
not until now, i must admit.
too busy staring at the ceiling and thinking about death.
on the bright side, at least my face didn't break out with acne.
but i find it really funny how last night i washed my face,
yet i woke up with a pimple today.
it's where you first kissed me on the forehead.
maybe because once i stood to shower,
all i could think about was you.
and truly, you make me feel cold.
YOU ARE READING
Eunoia
PuisiBehind every poem is a story too afraid to be told bluntly. . . . I intend to write to make you feel.
