You pour your heart,
your soul,
very being
into one thing,
one person,
and you believe,
naively,
stupidly,
wishfully,
hopelessly,
that they live,
and thrive,
and soar,
and that the dreams,
they have will,
manifest like,
a spell,
like magic,
but maybe you already know,
maybe you already can feel,
wishes aren't granted,
dreams turn to dust,
and everything,
everyone,
no matter the love,
or care,
dies.
YOU ARE READING
Blissful Incompetence
PoetryThis will be my poem dump. All my crappy poems and shitty thoughts all compressed into one place. Aren't you just so lucky to read them? For real though, most of this will be personal-esque poems and writings and most will probably be going over so...