I'm always writing about him
Despite the repeated abuse
His punches are so familiar
This pain is one I cannot refuse
I think deep down I loved him
And all his shortcomings
Because I knew I wasn't any better
And took it as a blessing
I am learning that he was wrong
And that love does not bruise
But I still long for his presence
It sticks to me like a tattoo
YOU ARE READING
Of Citrus, Honey, and Melancholy ● Poetry ●
Poetry❝Part into me like an orange and make me spill over your fingertips.❞ ------------------------ An original collection of poetry and raw confessions about queer sexuality and pain. Please read at your own discrimination.
