Theodore

To whom it may concern,

I wish to speak my mind a bit.

I hate them.

I hate that it wasn't me that clicked or fit into those hands of his.

Or actually, I hate that I didn't speak or sneaked into their own little clique that is.

Maybe I should have critique and made a tweak to that weak heart of mines but I didn't and therefore in the end, regretting, here I am:

I am too bleak and deprived of sleep and just thinking about "If I had told you sooner, what would we have been that week?" as I weep.

 

As I weep, I think of "we."

 

As of "we," I think of "you and me."

 

"You and me."

 

That sounds so hard to believe.

 

I wish my love for you could pass like a breeze but I know it's not gonna leave as I grieve in this forever "Get Over Him Eve" and evilly wishing I should have been a thief but

I retrieve my sanity and try to live life with ease and pretending I forgot about that miscarried love we conceived.

 

- Yee Yang

This poem is about: 
Me
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