---
What is it with you
that you had ever-so-quickly left?
And what is it with me
that I feel like all of this is theft?
Wrapped around her waist,
her skirt flows and goes super prettily
and I could do nothing
but to envy you two perfectly steadily.
What is it with you
that you rolled by like the wind,
hurling pieces of crumpled papers,
that you can do it all again?
And what is it with me
that I cried like a child outside,
throwing toys at people in green,
that I can't do it all again?
And maybe you're dancing
and singing and trying
to win her heart, for every hour,
but that's heartbreaking.
And maybe you're holding
her hand, promising
to win her heart, for everyday,
but that's annoying.
And maybe I'm not her,
but I hope things you said,
things you did, things you liked
about me haunt you dead.
And maybe you're strong enough
to do it all again,
but I'll be here, waiting, weak 'cause
I can't do it all again.
---
YOU ARE READING
Finite Infinitives
Poetry𝙁𝙞𝙣𝙞𝙩𝙚 𝙄𝙣𝙛𝙞𝙣𝙞𝙩𝙞𝙫𝙚𝙨 ╰ a c o m p i l a t i o n o f p o e m s ╰ c o m p l e t e d "I haven't done everything I want, but in the realm of reams, I already did some."
