I ask you again,
before you’ve even finished reassuring me,
for the thirteenth time,
I ask you if I’m awake,
existing in a time,
where someone truly adores me.
I rest my head,
on all the scenarios I have seen,
in my overactive, overexcited imagination,
asking myself why I can’t sleep,
why I can’t breathe,
why am I walking into woe for the hundredth time?
I sing my self through sad sweetheart hours,
pathetic and peering at my phone,
wasting all my wishes,
on texts and kisses,
that form a candy trail,
into your forest,
where I will meet my demise,
and frankly,
I will be relieved that it’s all over.
RECENT FREE CREATIVE WRITING COLLECTIONS
In The Garden Of The Free Children
Virgin Vogue
Sad Girl’s Love Song
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