We made such good friends, why did it turn out like this.
It's all your fault
But why am I blaming it on myself?
YOU ARE READING
Poems: Aesthete
PoetryHere I churn out my guts for everyone's pleasure, trying to make pain tangible. Trying to make feelings comprehensible. Trying to be somthing.
*insert some cheesy french nickname you once had for me*
We made such good friends, why did it turn out like this.
It's all your fault
But why am I blaming it on myself?
