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broookePoems
I asked him if he’d read any of the poetry I’d sent him— I feel A little broken today over the phone but I think I hide it well, I’ve had to fake it for so long anyway, I slip into the same ol’ same ol’ so easily, it’s a little disheartening At some point I told him I’d been sad for years but he glazed over that, and this is no different, this same deliberate indifference, this same infuriating nonchalance over my heart but I bite it back because He says no.
0
Jan 25
Jan 25, 2026 at 9:35 PM UTC
On read.
I asked him if he’d read any of the poetry I’d sent him— I feel A little broken today over the phone but I think I hide it well, I’ve had to fake it for so long anyway, I slip into the same ol’ same ol’ so easily, it’s a little disheartening At some point I told him I’d been sad for years but he glazed over that, and this is no different, this same deliberate indifference, this same infuriating nonchalance over my heart but I bite it back because He says no.
broooke
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broooke
Jan 25
Jan 25, 2026 at 9:35 PM UTC
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