i count in 3's
to push my pace faster,
to find a face in the crowd
that might be my own
or of the lover i had known.
it didn't nor doesn't
matter who they were,
what they wore,
what music they liked
or what feature of theirs i adored.
they called my love
an infatuation,
maybe that's what hurt me the most.
to know
someone else didn't believe
in what i thought made sense,
like listening to the world all your life
only to be told it was wrong
the whole time.
