Hoping...
Praying...
Hoping and Praying.
Praying to God that you haven't lost interest in me.
I hope that I at least cross your mind in the morning.
If not in the morning, maybe at night.
I hope you view me as joy, and not as a hindering object with no importance to it; just something for the wind to blow.
I wish I could feel a connection to you,
like the sun to the warmth;
like the eyes to everything around them.
I almost feel a sorrow for putting the fragments of my heart on the line, knowing what to expect.
I wish I knew that I was yours forever.
I wish that it could happen;
but I know it's not permanent.
How come I feel that you could leave me at any second?
Distance yourself (but with baby steps?)
I'm hoping and praying that you don't.
Hoping...
Praying...
Hoping and Praying.
YOU ARE READING
Dear Suicide...
Poetry(#12 in Poetry- 3/5/17 |14 in Poetry- 2/28/17 |23 in Poetry- 11/18/16) Have you ever considered picking up a pen and writing to the one you fear most? Well, that's what I've done. When I write to my fears, It's oddly satisfying, because I know that...
