I think all my poems are about you in a way And how you make me feel whether good or bad. You’re there somewhere. I don’t know what I miss about you. I guess we always hang on to what we believe was the good. Because the bad is unbearable. So we bury it. Where it can’t hurt us. i buried your bad under the pedestal i built for you. I keep your good holstered on the halo I...
I hate feeling like I can’t talk about how I feel without being “sensitive” or “dramatic”. Shit, half the time I’m theatrical about expressing myself but the feelings are legit.