no talking

Dependent I’ve become/ after months and months of talking/ and now all i recieve is silence/ i wish it wasn’t so shocking

Yet i don’t want to move first/ worried of forced conversation/ so i sit in my bedroom/ all my songs, one long duration

So, update. I’m realizing I suck at poems and it’s kind of killing me because nothing seems decent when I write it and all my “decent” ones are just about inanimate objects. What does that say about me? Can I not write? Do I force myself to write too much? Just because I can rhyme doesn’t mean I can just build stanzas that have any depth. Yet, I keep checking my snap and there’s nothing new from anybody and I can only hope that writing passes the time because the night is long. -me, cosmo susie