Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Nov 2023
there aren’t words
and golf clubs don’t hit hard enough
because at the end of the day
you won’t ever get to hold my Elizabeth or my Theodore
and I still don’t know
If I’m mad at
or simply for you
because you said we’d get to laugh at the way a white dress would twirl round as **** jokes were said and tears were shed
But instead
I just miss you
TRIGGER WARNING:

- if you are struggling please seek help:
CA 9-8-8 hotline

https://blog.opencounseling.com/suicide-hotlines/
just call me caits
Written by
just call me caits
90
   guy scutellaro
Please log in to view and add comments on poems