to be given such luscious gifts
to record us, kissing
to have my favourite songs be your favourites
to record me singing, so delicate in the recollection
to be given the time of day
to have been loved and cherished
to just have been noticed in the first place
to be considered deserving of any attention
oh what i would do to be considered again
to get another run through the go round
oh what i would wish for by the soonest shooting star
interesting words passed between us
while i wanted to get one last hug
hoped you felt better than i do
i want to try my best
put on my very best show
i hope someone is impressed
i simply hope i can avoid being little miss lonely
and on the topic of attention
in attempting to indulge myself
i find it much harder to sit still
used to what it feels like to be wanted
and to be happy in a closed space
in tricking others, or in just sharing the real me
it gives me such a feeling that i draw off of
as a power source, a core
and for what it's worth
the core isn't nessecarily replaceable between people
simply improved, and built upon
at one point there was multiple cores
and everything was booming
but it collapsed
infiltrated by mere lust for happiness
now
it's a small set of tiny cores
equal to one big core
and i don't have such reliance when one goes out
but at the same time
it's such small power
that i need to work
and id say i can run without them
but it'd drain me so quick
draw them up, back to life
people out of the woodworks
come to be cores, from around the world
become my muse as an artist
it simply can't be said
how much i miss love.
YOU ARE READING
I'll Be Fine (pt. 2 of 2)
Poetrypoetry showing my stress. relieving, coping, really. continuing to add poems, sometimes daily. use this as place to talk about your own frustrations and dances with pain and strife
