a/n: a style adaptation once again. for my sake, no concrit please. no changes to suggest… well, other than the formatting. in honor of she's not breathing, my favorite poet (everywhere, not just here on fictionpress).

. explode .

i (never) cry
over poetry. (except
for that one time
that i refuse
to revisit—
because the bitch
left me; just got up
& ran.) but now,
i can feel a long-
gone emotion
filling my chest
cavities & rising
up through my throat. i'm crying
over this poem, but not
just this poem, every poem
i've ever read
(because the bitch
left me; just got up
& ran.) & i can't stop
myself from feeling
this way. she's
gone forever & ever. best
for never.

a/n: even though the bitch left me, she still keeps showing up everywhere else.