At night, I am lit up by not the brightness of someone's smile, but a phone screen.
At night, I waste my time talking to those who wouldn't spare a second glance in my direction,
Unless it's for my skilled hands to light fire on their skin like I had done nights prior.
The butterflies in my stomach are unrequited
And nothing will ever be enough, not even for you
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YOU ARE READING
Poems that Invade my humble mind
PoetryA place where I can put my thoughts onto a physical thing.