Our affair was not intense.Well, I made it intense for me, because I'm fucked up, but it was far far from some grand all-consuming passion.There was no romantic love. It was desperation, loneliness, and selfishness.I just do not fucking know how to forgive myself.I just do not fucking know how to forgive myself.
This poem is about:
Get AI Feedback on your poem
Interested in feedback on your poem? Try our AI Feedback tool.
If You Need Support
If you ever need help or support, we trust CrisisTextline.org for people dealing with depression. Text HOME to 741741