When I want to cry, I read your poetry.
Out loud.
I revisit the feeling of unwantedness.
Unwantedness, like that’s even a word.
“But it is!” you’d tell me and once
again and
again
I’d feel stupid about what I didn't know yet.
Even if it was not true.
Aug 5, 2014
Aug 5, 2014 at 12:03 AM UTC
