I fell in love with a shadow,
Your love is like a shadow,
I know it's there, trailing us,
But it feels like the morning haze,
Present but never touching like a storm.
Perhaps I'm asking too much,
Perhaps I crave a tornado of passion.
Funny how I'm drowning in this haze,
Sinking into an empty void I cannot fill.
I yearn to feel your blood and bones falling for me.
At times, it seems you appreciate me,
But do you truly love me?
I don't feel like the one and only in a lifetime's embrace,
I want to be the one who makes you feel I'm your treasure,
I want to feel love coursing through your veins,
Purging you alive, submerging you in fervor.
I want you to crave my touch,
To be so obsessed with me that even in sleep,
My presence haunts your dreams.
I don't want to feel appreciated enough to be kept around,
But not cherished enough to make your heart race.
I want to see wonder in your eyes when they meet mine,
I want to feel loved by you,
Oh, to be truly loved by you.
But how foolish I was,
Wasting so much time to realize
That you don't really love me.
I'm so tired, exhausted from asking—
Begging you to love me right.
"In the right eyes, you will be art," they say,
And I long to be that art to you,
A masterpiece in your gaze,
But your eyes don't see me at all.
I just want you to know my worth,
To see the beauty I hold within.
When I look into your eyes,
I don't see the stars I'm hoping to see,
Only the cold, empty void of indifference.
Even when you touch me,
Your fingers feel like ghosts,
Passing over my skin,
Without warmth,
Without meaning.
And when you kiss me,
It's as if I'm kissing a statue—
Unfeeling, unmoved,
A hollow echo of what love should be.
I crave the passion that should be there,
The spark that should ignite,
But all I find is the cold stone of your heart,
Unyielding, unresponsive.
I feel so empty,
As if all the life has been drained from me,
My tears becoming dry,
As though I've wept all that I have to give.
I wish you could see me,
See the art that I am,
The colors I hold, the light I carry.
But your eyes are blind to my soul,
And I'm left longing for a love
That was never really there.
How foolish I was to think
That I could be your masterpiece,
When all along,
You were just a blank canvas,
Refusing to be painted with the colors of love.
Now I stand here,
Feeling more alone in your arms
Than I ever did without you.
And I wonder,
How long can I keep pretending
That this hollow love is enough?
