I am complicated.
Half of my poems are warning people
not to get close to me and
the other half are begging them
to come near.
I am not simple.
I am not the kind of person
you fall in love with.
Please, love me.
I’m scared as hell to want you. But here I am, wanting you anyway.
i am not your cigarette break.
I MISS YOU
i wrote a poem today i know i did i just can’t remember where i wrote it down crappy
u wake up on christmas morning and go downstairs, full of excitement. somebody is stealing all of your christmas presents. it is jesus. “its my birthday, not yours” he hisses menacingly, then runs away with all your gifts in his arms