I’ve really been writing love poems when I have no real muse.
3 weeks ago
I go months without hearing from so-called friends and family until I lose the desire to respond, so wounded by their lack of interests that I would rather it stay that way than for them to feign interest.
1 month ago
I’m growing weary by the foreplay. Is it you, the one who still plagues my memory, or am I sadly mistaken?