just because you aren't perfect doesn't mean you're not beautiful

A question people often ask me a few dozen times by now.

Summer was supposed to be memorable. Well, it was in some way.

A trashy poem I made for my boyfriend.

What most normal people don't know is how dangerous the path feels for someone like me.

I close my eyes and think about the past. War. Bloodshed. Violence. Was beauty a hidden witness to all this horror?

You loved writing poems and I loved watching you write them. But now you're gone. I'm all alone now.