Poem- yearning
He left me hollow—a black pit yearning for transparency, for something resembling normalcy.
What I mistook for mutual understanding and love was nothing more than a facade, a means to satisfy a rudimentary, primal desire. It was never the girl who mattered, only the flesh he could claim, the heartstrings he could pull, siphoning an intimacy he could not find in women who give themselves out of necessity rather than pleasure.
What I mistook for mutual understanding and love was nothing more than a facade, a means to satisfy a rudimentary, primal desire. It was never the girl who mattered, only the flesh he could claim, the heartstrings he could pull, siphoning an intimacy he could not find in women who give themselves out of necessity rather than pleasure.
26-30, F
