Yet I'm still laying here. It's pitch
black
The only thing bright enough to see is this tiny little screen I
tap tap
tap
To write you this poem.
You'll be happy to hear I've started smoking again to let my lungs go
B
L
A
C
K
Because for once, I let them breath. You told me to try.
You said it'll be fine. We'll be fine. Yeah I believed you, but my mistake. You're like the smell of nail polish remover, you can last for days but gone in a week. Oh, but a month later, your stench, it'll crawl the house.
I'm sorry to be bitter,
black.
I know every morning when I wake up,
my mouth will taste
Like ****
because I know I've been saying your name
all night.
~T.P~
This poem isn't my best, but I hope you like it~