Proud of my broken heart since thou didst break it,
Proud of the pain I did not feel till thee,
Proud of my night since thou with moons dost slake it,
Not to partake thy passion, my humility.
Emily Dickinson (1830-86)i wish i had words to express my hurt, my anger, and my jealousy. i wish i had words to describe what it feels like to be me
(
Read more... )