it flusters me that
you
pour so much of this affection
and i, so weak and naive
fall each time as though i forget all the other
times you made me feel ill.
all the other times i felt betrayed and
insignificant
not by you, but by my own
shortfall of deep love
for me
for my soul.
you didn't make me feel ill,
that was me.
Jun 18, 2017
Jun 18, 2017 at 1:04 PM UTC
it flusters me that
you
pour so much of this affection
and i, so weak and naive
fall each time as though i forget all the other
times you made me feel ill.
all the other times i felt betrayed and
insignificant
not by you, but by my own
shortfall of deep love
for me
for my soul.
you didn't make me feel ill,
that was me.
