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  • Writer's picturewhit
    • Aug 7, 2018
    • 1 min read

SONNET NO. 3

Opposites attract, or so they say. Smiles and small talk break the surface. But this sky becomes a cloudy grey, When I know I'm getting hurt on purpose. 

Hurt like the ocean full of trash. Hurt like the guitar string I cut. Pretty smiles for petty cash, You only like me for my strut.

I have a body I've never loved, But it keeps getting me unwanted attention. With strange emotions I've been talked out of, in a response to all this condescension. 

I'm not wasting my time to cry. This entire crush was no surprise. 

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