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Jan 6
J
There's things I never want to feel again. Not for them. Not for me. Not for no one. Not for no situation. There's things I never wanna see cause it'll be hot flashes of what used to be. Things I used to do. The person I used to cater too. The person I used to be. The person whom I've shed. That ain't me. Thats dead. Those aren't my feelings. Those aren't real. They're not real. I've healed. I've healed. They were. Believe me they were. But not no more. Those feelings don't belong to me, they don't right? Not more, no sir. The one with untended emotional wounds and unmet needs. The one you never tended, prioriorites you didn't feed. They don't belong with the new me. With the new year. With the new skin. They belong with the broken. The old me with kinks, swollen bottom lip. The teary eyed, the big brat. With the small hands that fit perfectly into yours. That's the old me with the old you. May they rest in peace. But they keep me up on nights like this, tell em please stop calling me. Please ** stop calling me.
Nely
Written by
Nely  New York
(New York)   
206
   Juneau
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