Wrizzit
For everything, down to the scribbles.
For everything, down to the scribbles.
A poem I wrote on Substack: Why is it always you haunting the narrative of us? Us is supposed to be two but becomes three with you. Why must there be three in this story of you and me? Don’t tell me the one you love is not I, but she? So, then, why do I stay? In pain and agony? Why can’t I let go of you for me? Why must I endure a love unsure? Why must I watch as you give it all to her?