Convincing myself it’s just infatuation,
Yet here I write, full of dedication.
I keep writing, again and again,
Describing you as my perfect man.
Pages and words, they overflow,
With love I feel but cannot show.
Why do I do this? Why do I care?
Expressing my heart, though you're unaware.
I feel so much, yet it’s always the same,
Every time I adore, I play this game.
Pouring my effort into every line,
Just to feel safe, to call you mine.
“Im just infatuated,” I try to say,
But my poems betray me every day.
I gaslight myself, it’s just a phase,
Yet sparks fly when I utter your name.
I admire your charm, your silly ways,
Your goofy smiles that brighten my days.
But it’s just infatuation, nothing more,
A mantra I chant, but can't ignore.
I repeat the words to ease my mind,
But no true solace can I find.
For deep inside, my heart won’t quit
I can’t convince myself of it.
YOU ARE READING
Tears Of Love
PoetryThis poem explores the bittersweet experience of admiring someone who doesn't quite fit the image of the "perfect" partner you once envisioned. It delves into the tension between fantasy and reality, reflecting on the beauty of imperfections, the un...
