i lie a lot. to be blunt.
no one truly knows me. and i'm so sorry for that- i have a best friend that knows the most, but i keep it all boxed up behind shattered ribs and lungs breathing too hard.
no one will fall in love with me unless i allow it. people will fall in love with a perfectly crafted mask with painted red lips and a rosy smile. i sit and paint my blush with blood and ignore the prospect of meeting my soulmate when i am nothing but paper promising so many false stagnant sentences that constantly looms over me.
and secret-keeping is lying. because i am looking people in the face and expressing happiness- and oh, that is definitely not right.
x
if i could fly,
sam
YOU ARE READING
thoughts ≠ sx
Poetrysomething in between a rant book and a book for a girl to ramble in. [ @clairescovers ]
