This article is written by a student writer from the Her Campus at Rowan chapter.
It seems I always come back to you,
but only in my poems.
You see,
I don’t write of flowers on my doorstep
or notes on my dashboard.
No,
I speak of the nights where I’m fighting back tears,
leaving the TV on for light.
The darkest moments, my loneliest weeks,
were those I spent mourning us.
Channeling back is like an addiction,
re-watching tragedies until dawn
just to feel alive.
I was never alive
until you killed me.