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I love you, always.

By Victoria BrownPublished 5 years ago 1 min read

the instructor said,

go home and write

a page tonight.

and let that page come out of you –

then, it will be true.

i am seventeen years old

and have no idea what

i’m doing.

i come to class, do my work,

go home, repeat. i’m having trouble

trying to find myself like everyone else

seems to be doing.

i write, that’s what i do.

or at least what i attempt to do.

i’m more open that way.

my writing is my escape,

but it doesn’t always work

when all i seem to write about

is him.

i’m not over him, but it doesn’t matter;

he’s been over me since he cheated.

i loved him, i really did

and i just wish he felt the same and

here i am writing about him again because i don’t know myself alone but i know

myself with him.

he hurt me, he ruined me, by lying to me,

lying to me about loving me and he left me

in silence for months until he needed something to

entertain him again and he came back just to tell me he didn’t love me.

and here i am, writing about him,

when i was supposed to be writing about

me. but then again, i don’t know me without



About the Creator

Victoria Brown

twenty-three & longing.

lover of words, tea, & antiques.

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