grasping at straws
trying to find the words
anything, in any language,
that could possibly do you justice.
an impossible feat
writer's block returns to me
flabbergasted, swallowed whole
by this feeling without descriptor.
though i’ve written
about a similar emotion
nothing i’ve ever touched
could dream to measure up.
it’s a weird place to be, stuck right in between i’m still in love with you, and i deserve more than you gave me when both are, at once, true i liked you much more before i loved you i liked you bette
you made me feel like you loved me even when you don’t. it was just enough for me, ignoring reality for a dream. though the wool was thin, it sat snug against my eyes, nonetheless. i could sculpt it i
i miss you so loudly. the whispers of morning and your delicate hands, wisps of hair sweeping against my face as i dig myself deeper into you. i will not go softly. i tell it to anyone who listens ho