Laughter Hurts the Most
Just when I was sure my skin
had grown exactly thick enough,
he looks at her; and I know.
Know that all the stupid hopes
I tell myself not to think but
secretly hope for against my
better judgment anyways,
are wrong. I am wrong.
When I laugh I look at him but
when he laughs he looks at her.
That pretty much sums it up.
I will know and she will know but
somehow he will never know
how much it kills me that
his glance never strays to me.
I can't be angry and I shouldn't be,
but I curse the day I ever let
my thoughts wander to the
prospect of him seeing me.
For now I think he will never find
a reason to look at me when he laughs.
