The title of this poem is “Empty Envelopes”
But it should be “Empty Promises.”
I didn’t want to make it too obvious.
Though, wasn’t my disappointment clear?
Wasn’t it obvious that I could tell that you weren’t here?
You’re not present or prepared to be there,
to be the person that you said cared.
Maybe this poem should be called “Empty Envelopes,” after all.
Because your promises are as empty as my inbox.
When I wake up hungover from the regret of being broken, I wonder if I succeeded in pushing everyone away, you know, just so I can be...
Fake friend, Flaked again friend, Called and fell asleep friend, Can’t be bothered to listen to me friend. Fake friend, Always showing up...
I wear these scares like armor. Proof! of all the s t r e n g t h I harbor – signs of my bravery burned into my cells! Living &...
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