The mirror shows no image.
My eyes are dull
My face pale
No blood courses through my veins.
am I alive?
Not that it matters
Especially not to you.
My body is drained
My eyes are stained
from thinking of you
I loved you.
And I still fucking do.
But I can't (I won't) waste another second
wishing I was with you.
YOU ARE READING
Philosophical perspectives {poems}
PoetryHi gorgeous >When my thoughts and feelings are suffocating me and I can't bear it any longer I resolve to poetry. >>Poetry is a form of art with which I can relate the unsaid to. I don't feel as alone knowing others are feeling the same thing as I...
