Slowly there is no more Mason.
My weekends are given to Ian
Or Ben
Or anyone but you
You never say anything to me anymore
Not that it matters
But thank you for the five months
The laughs
The smiling until my face could not take anymore
The memories and the jokes
And all the sweet kisses that I relished in for hours
May this be your chance to grow
Your chance to blossom
I am letting you go.
YOU ARE READING
A Whole Melancholy of Lovers
Poetrya book of poetry written for the boy i love the most, and maybe a few others
