Never been good at letting go
for you know I show more emotion than time
finding what’s missing
a picture of you
is mine
in the bottom drawer
collecting dust
when we used to trust
I felt pure lust
now there’s a jar of rust
the heat I couldn’t bear to touch
Sleeping with eyes focused on the ceiling
She pushes her way through the locked door
making a fuss
turning heads
causing a scene
fucking stop
the neighbors will call the fucking cops
I’ve given you a house on the top of the hill
What’s the deal?
Naivety is so not chill
Popping the question is rather ideal
(Wattpad, Amazon Kindle.)
Reblogged this on Short Stories| Poems.
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