FebruaryTown

this is not a love poem: this is not about me and how i hate the way realism tastes. this is about you. this is about how you are one too many shades arrogant, how nearly every night you try to forget that time has left you behind. this is about your laugh and the way it whispers "i can't remember what i was like before i became this." and, if i'm being honest, this is about how i will never see your too cocky for your own damn good grin that makes me go weak in the knees. this is about you and how you're not real and how i wish to god that i wasn't either.