This is not it

Maybe I’m putting too much thoughts into this,

what kind of a woman begs-

and still stay, unasked for


I guess I wanted you last night,

tried to milk whatever comfort I can get from a man

who finds no comfort in me


what kind of a woman that makes me


I only know how to be selfish,

and asks for things

so out of reach for the unloved


I will put myself down, gently

this is the most self-loving I can be;

to not let myself drown after breathing underwater for a while,

I knew my lungs can only hold so much air


with you, I swell and bursts all alone

here to serve some passive aggressive poems
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