They say love is a sickness with no cure. That might be true.
She was like vines growing on my skin, trapping me under her powerful spell. Every movement she made was elegantly flawless. The way she would touch the scar on her arm, that never healed properly from childhood, whenever she felt alone and how she always kept a bright demeanor, despite being exhausted, allured me. My blue eyes would follow her every step as her black, glossy curls swayed to her hips and her delicate collarbones perked through her pale skin.
People said it was affection, maybe envy, but how could it be envy when my chest ached every time she laughed? Why couldn’t it be love? Was it because we were two teen girls, unknowing of the cruel world in opposition to us?
Well I guess that’s true. Our love would never work out. But I was stuck in the sickness with no cure for the rest of my life.
Apr 6
Apr 6, 2026 at 1:35 PM UTC
They say love is a sickness with no cure. That might be true.
She was like vines growing on my skin, trapping me under her powerful spell. Every movement she made was elegantly flawless. The way she would touch the scar on her arm, that never healed properly from childhood, whenever she felt alone and how she always kept a bright demeanor, despite being exhausted, allured me. My blue eyes would follow her every step as her black, glossy curls swayed to her hips and her delicate collarbones perked through her pale skin.
People said it was affection, maybe envy, but how could it be envy when my chest ached every time she laughed? Why couldn’t it be love? Was it because we were two teen girls, unknowing of the cruel world in opposition to us?
Well I guess that’s true. Our love would never work out. But I was stuck in the sickness with no cure for the rest of my life.
Idk if this is a poem but I just needed to vent somewhere
