L.C. McQuillen
03.12.18
I have given you this part of me and you set it on the shelf. you tell it nice things as it collects dust day after day until everything is blurry. Until I’m depressed from layers of weight that you never carried. It just sat and I’m crumbling underneath it. Love should not make me a dirty, untouched thing that even I, myself questions the worth within it.