"How are you so nice?" He had asked me once. I wasn't. I'm not. How is he so nice? That's what I wonder a lot, when my brain is all fuzzy after a day of obvious answers to tiresome questions. He's nice to everyone, you see. He holds their hand and helps with heavy things. But it's why I shouldn't be thinking about him in bed after he weasels his drawings into my notes or pats my head when I cry. I shouldn't look at him any different than he looks at me. I'm supposed to be in love with someone far away. I'm supposed to love the guy that pays me no mind and never remembers my birthday.
But instead, I'm spiraling into this pit of want for him. He loves my dogs, he knows my story, he wants me to be happy, he watches the same animes, he makes me laugh, he hates the guts out of the one that I'm supposed to love.
He loves someone else.
YOU ARE READING
of demons and love
Poetry(2014-2016) I closed my eyes because I didn't want to see someone I love, love everyone but me.
