Blinded by love
The thought of him caressing me , holding me, protecting me,
cherishing me
Made life a little easier
Or so I thought.
Slicing my skin with rusty metal was always on my mind.
"I just don't like you like that."
"Why? What is it that doesn't make you 'like' me?"
"It's not you, it's me."
Or is it just the fact that **you're not ready to grow up.
I just wrote what came to mind. Inexperienced to writing poems.