To The Guy Who Killed Part Of Me
You shall be wept, over and over, until you disappear into a distant memory, some insignificant story. And with each weeping session I shall remember to love myself a little bit more.
You shall be wept, over and over, until you disappear into a distant memory, some insignificant story. And with each weeping session I shall remember to love myself a little bit more.
I am not scared of love, I am scared of getting used to it. What if it’s taken away someday, all of it, and I don’t survive the change?