i don't know whether to thank you or hate you
you left me to duststorms - asked for my bulletproof vest
before shooting me in the neck.
i don't remember how many times i got high after you left.
at the same time,
i wouldn't have gotten clean unless you left me.
i wouldn't have spiralled
to my mental bedrock,
wouldn't have woken up
in that hospital bed
alive, and realized
that i was no longer
at peace
with dying.
- to two years and six months
YOU ARE READING
This Is Where You Learn to Move On
PoetryThe random thoughs, the missing pieces of puzzles that I will never click together. Bits and pieces that won't end up in a manuscript. Highest Ranking: 16 in Poetry cover credits to the outstanding @eccentriphilia
