I don't miss you, I miss the thought of you.
That's the lie I tell myself when the emo comes.
I am not a young man, but
it floods over me,
like anaerobic bog water
and makes me swallow
noxious filth
as I struggle for
breath.
I am not a young man.
Jun 4, 2013
Jun 4, 2013 at 3:41 PM UTC
I don't miss you, I miss the thought of you.
That's the lie I tell myself when the emo comes.
I am not a young man, but
it floods over me,
like anaerobic bog water
and makes me swallow
noxious filth
as I struggle for
breath.
I am not a young man.
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