For months you gave me nothing but doubts and confusion. There was not a single thing about you that was concrete or something that I could be certain of. You were never constant. You would always seem to be different. Everything would be a surprise to me. And every single time, I thought I was speaking to a different person. And I can't take it anymore. Because I miss your other persona. And I can't seem to see him among your other versions. No matter how hard I look, I can't see beyond your eyes. Yet I can see the soul of a troubled boy. A boy who is stuck. And a boy who is scared to be known by the world. But you claim that he is part of who you are. But I don't know who you are. Because you never gave me the chance to know you. And now it's clear to me that this is how you wanted it to end. How only you could know yourself completely.
YOU ARE READING
Trinkets
PoetryIf you want to read without the commitment, this is the perfect book for you. You can open it and read a few excerpts once in a while, or you can read it in one go. The entries here have various themes which may confuse readers as it confused the wr...
