I wish I could make sense of feelings and emotions,
And signals and signs too and be able to untangle them,
I wish I understood why I feel the way I do and stop the feeling of my heart being ripped into pieces.
Having a sense of purpose and convincing myself that I would be the lucky one,
That I would hold the grandest and most precious of treasures close and watch it shine,
But reality came in fast and knocked me off balance,
No more possibilities and no more maybes.
Would it have mattered if I acted sooner? If I had thrown caution to the wind and tried?
Would there have been the slightest chance that I would be the one?
It doesn't matter now.
It's probably too late.
I'm always too late.
One day, I'll learn, and one day, I'll be brave.
I'll charge forward and say what I spend hours thinking about.
The dreams would come to life and dance off my tongue and paint pictures of what you'd be to me.
But my dreams are silly, unrealistic, and a fantasy.
I rarely sleep as it is, or rarely dream when I do,
But when I do, it is you that comes forward from my subconscious and tells me everything I want to hear.
This is why I don't sleep much anymore,
The dreams make me restless, and I guess that means what i feared, that you will only love me in my dreams.
No wonder I'm always so tired.
