The lines pass through, the conversations tangle up, the longing smile and the sheer steel of hope and fragility caress the tone.
The stories never seem to get old.
The need to be wanted, to be loved, to be cared for, to be missed and longed, to be someone special for just that one, fuels through ever conversation...
But there's no one to talk to, no one to sigh for, no one to look deep within where the lines that wait to be intertwined stay detached.
The conversations flow through, the faces change, but the only thing stagnate is the word 'love'...
The feeling of being the one for someone, the feeling of being part of something that can be so fragile and so blissful at the same time.
The words so beautifully spoken to picture the perfect story, the perfect memory, the perfect moment... seems difficult to transpire when the grueling feeling of never being enough snapes in and ceases any and every possibility of ever truly falling in love.
Love...
Love that's supposed to be celebrated, love that's supposed to be protected, love that's supposed to be a path for the empty feeling that no matter how much you try to run away from, somehow seeks to be the only definition of true happiness.
The feeling of being loved... if only there was a possibility.
The smiles grow bigger, the happiness seeps through and all that you see is the colour of love painting the town red, while you wait your turn for that lucky one.
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Jaded Reality
PoetrySome Realities are hidden safely in cages far away from the guilt of being judged at, from being gawked at, to form a veil to hide beneath in order to look as humanly happy as possible. To hoard down dark secrets, ultimately sulking in a murk so da...
