Posted by 水仙 on Jul 22, 2022
content: heartbreak poetry
They tell me
little lies, like:
you are strong
you are worth
something more than
this. This. This
I spend my
days reading. Poetry.
Never writing it.
I've forgotten how.
the memory of
you has pushed
out all the
words I once
held like fallen
leaves of dried
clovers in between
my fragile fingers.
How easily trees
snap in half
like my phalanxes.
I once woke
up next to
a stranger and
when she asked
me did you
get your after
rain I said
no. I said
no because this.
This? This. This
This isn't love.
That is what
I told her.
— july 6th, 2012.
this is actually the very first poem in the book. here is the second.
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