arianna-gomezWhisper

American
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the first timeThe first time your hand fit into mine was in September / At the homecoming dance / I wore a black dress and heels that hurt my feet
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Untitledand she took them all from me / with a pretty laugh and a cute smile / in the blink of an eye,
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the last timeThis won’t be the last time I write about him. / But it will be the last time I try. / You see, I can’t say I won’t write about him again. Because at one point in my life, he was my world. And when someone is in your life and changes you so much, like he did, I don’t think they ever leave you. The person you were with them might be gone, but the person they were- they’re always with you. That’s the thing. When you love someone, you don’t ever stop. You kind of carry the people you love around with you. They’re pieces of you, you know? There is a piece of me that loved him and still loves him and always will. And when I write, pieces of me and the people I love and the people I’ve lost spill out of me. And I think, as long as I write, some part of me will still be writing about him. Without even trying.
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three a.m.And (I) read your three a.m. texts / About why you’re sad all the time / And how you don’t find happiness in anything
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