I still hope you'd come around.
I'd look up from my isolation and still hope you'd be looking back at me, looming over with a wide smile. I'd look around in a crowd and still hope you'd be searching for me, too. I'd wait and wait when I'm alone, hoping that you'd hold me in your arms once again.
But all this is just a useless and helpless hope. I'm just wasting my time thinking you'd turn back around to me and come back. I'm just hurting myself more every day- every single second when you cross my mind.
You left me in pieces. You broke me like promises. You tore me up like flower petals. You emptied me up like a glass of wine. That's what you did. That's how I remember you.
But for I haven't stopped loving you- even when you already long did, or never actually have loved me-, I still hope you'd come around.
YOU ARE READING
Once Upon A Lone Heart | ✔
PoetryIt's you. It's always you. But it never should have been. --- [A collection of thoughts I thought were good when I first thought of them.] [12/07/18 rank - #480/528 in prose] [17/07/18 rank - #203/556 in prose]
