He watches as her words flow free,
Compliments like honey from her lips,
To every man she meets but he,
Feels a sting that tightens his grip.
She'll laugh and call another "handsome,"
Bright-eyed, with a playful grace,
But when it comes to him, the ransom
Is a jab, a jest—a strange embrace.
"Ugly," she teases with a grin,
While he's left wondering within,
Why her sweetness runs so thin
When she looks his way again.
Insecure, he hides his pride,
Wonders what it means to be adored,
Is he the butt of every joke,
Or the one her heart is truly for?
He sees her smile, her laughter's tune,
Feels the envy grow like weeds,
Wishes she could find the moon
In his imperfect deeds.
For every time she mocks his style,
Calls him plain, or rolls her eyes,
He craves a truth behind her guile,
A reason for those little lies.
Does she see him as a game,
A comfort in her cruel charade?
Or is he lost in her own shame,
Her love in jest, her heart afraid?
Yet still he stays, unsure, unseen,
Caught between her love and jest,
Hoping someday she'll come clean,
And see in him what she loves best.
YOU ARE READING
Echoes of My Soul: A Journey in Verse
PoetryEchoes of My Soul is a raw, unapologetic collection of poetry that delves into the dark corners of the human experience. Through verses that burn with anger, seethe with hatred, and ache with pain, the author reveals the struggle of confronting life...
