Love was the story tellers strangest enigma, a emotion that felt more like an impossible puzzle the more I started to open my heart to a guy.
Only the key never had the story line to open the door to the other side.
The side that I can faintly see as heaven on earth.
Doomed from the start, by my own layer to my unchangeable character design.
Sexuality.
Each guy from my past only adding to the list of examples to why I'm cursed.
They leave by a sudden force of a string only god had a part in.
Or getting fired from a job you had your first love in, caused by people you felt were family.
Only showing their true colors as black.
The more I loved the more I got hurt.
Except I was the only one drowning in the pool filled by my own tears.
Confusion being the hero that always won, while clarity laughed vaguely in a battle decided from the cheers.
At first glance I had a slimmer of hope it was just the divine plan to weed out the people who aren't meant to be in my life.
A little closer to the one I crave to be the hand to turn the key inside of me.
The more I think I found someone to love me back the more I struggled.
Faced with snippets of things I categorize as phycological examples of
"How to tell if a guy likes you."
Stares, hair fixing, feet facing you when talking, doing things you like to do,
comfortable to physical touch, etc.
My mind finding any source of hope it can choke out of me.
Leaving me with no belief for love at all when I'm given the bare minimum by him.
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"One sided love like the side of a coin. Never turning over until the one meant for me tells me they were there the whole time. I just had to look closer."
YOU ARE READING
The Internal Message
Poetry"With curious eyes you shall find - a lost story left inside." --Book of poems
