Untitled 2

Writing how I feel to try and cope

Because I am holding on, holding out for hope

That there is a chance, that there is a way

You will take the time to get back to me today

For once, I’m not feeling lesser

Maybe this is the new me, the better

I am not mad that it has been a few days

But waiting on you leaves me stuck in a haze

In my mind, it could be the worst or the best

You are who I am thinking of before I rest

I feel I am setting myself up to be hurt

But for just another chat with you, the pain would be worth

I try to get back to my daily grind

But I am caught stuck with you on my mind

Your eyes, they are the window to your soul

But when I look at them, that is when I feel whole

You are teaching me the art of patience

But I fear you won’t know how I feel until we are ancients

It is not a matter of distance or lack of passion

It is the fact that all this time is passin’

I do not want to rush whatever this is

But I feel neglected like a sink full of dishes

Maybe that is because I have not learned my lesson yet

But waiting on you has me feeling like credit card debt

I am interested in moving on from this stage

I really want to get on with it and turn this page

But there is probably no pay off coming for me

So I should just go ahead and admit we are not meant to be

All this doubt comes from a place of fear

A place where I know that you are not near

I am eroding from all this mental weathering

I should stop pretending this will become a better thing

I am not the kind of person to give up

But I should temper expectations in case they do not live up

To what the daydreams tell me can happen

Maybe I should just move on to afternoon nappin’

I am not hopelessly lost without you

But us finding each other is what I would like to do

How many ways can I say that I am interested

Just digging myself deeper in a hole, like the interest did

Is this stupidity or is this love

Whatever it is, it seems to fit me like a glove

I am stuck here alone writing these dull memoirs

When what I would rather be doing is talking to you beneath the stars

I know that this thinking of mine is wishful

But maybe one day, we can reminisce on days like this over a dishful

What am I doing, where is this going

Like a whale taking a breath, I feel like I am blowing

Something that started out weak but I hoped could become strong

So maybe I will just accept that I am not destined to love, I am destined to long
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