There are quiet moments in my life where I stare at the ceiling with absolutely nothing in my head. And then I'll think of you, and the thoughts tangle in brain and they'll be stupid enough to where they'll never be said aloud. The stupid thought will infiltrate me, I'll see you in my dreams and in the corner of my room, haunting me. But when I'm finally dead you'll be missing.
YOU ARE READING
ballads of heartbreak
Poetry"I'm sorry that I'm like this, I'm trying my best" -essentially a diary, slight tw for being self destructive & harmful, some really good stuff crammed in with a bunch of nonsensical three am cry sessions
