Content Warning : Do you want to continue?
This poem contains content which some readers may find disturbing.
It is unsuitable for children or anyone who is easily offended.

I am over 18 years old, I have been warned and I still want to read this poem.
I don't want to read this type of content, take me back to the previous page.

The fear of something real.

I fucked myself to your picture today.
Right after you told me goodbye for the hundredth time.
You never cared much for the truth.  
I opened up for you like a fragile paper flower.
Spilling every bittersweet drop of myself into your
twisted game of oral origami.
And you're going to pretend not to love the taste?
You've always preferred a watered down version of my chaos.
Raw truth drowned by the agonizing silence of every
unanswered text I send you.
A pick and mix bag of your hand-chosen absences.  
And I purge my unclothed emotions through salty sea-bound eyes.
I've never shown this authenticity to anyone but you.
And you pull away, scared again...
Reminding me exactly why I haven't.  
Written by CeeCee-Elaine (xPaper Flowersx)
Published | Edited 20th Dec 2019
Author's Note
"Wanna talk about it?" He asks.
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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