I don't know if the love in your eyes is fading or if my radar lost its ability to pick up your signals, but our connection is fading.
You ask me if I am aware of the fact that you love me, but how can anyone know?
There are no three words more misused, more abused than those.
Words are just that.
I can't feel the meaning behind them, entering my ears like the shell of a used bullet, hollow.
You call it my selfesteem, I call it my conscious, or even the reflection of me I see in your eyes.
I am but a speedbump in your road.
All I do is slow you down on your way towards your goal, annoying you every time you have to hit the brakes.
I am but a detour on your path, something you encountered, not because of fate or coincidence, but out of bad luck, sheer inconvenience.
A scenic route you happened to find and somewhat enjoy, but will never take again because it is still a detour, a road far away from your path, slowing you down, holding you back.
I am like the leftovers in your fridge after all the stores closed down and you're too broke to order, I'll just have to do.
I'm not what you were waiting for, not what you were hoping for or dreaming of.
I am not it, I am something.
I am rain when you wanted snow, music when all you wanted was silence.
I am a D when you hoped for an A, at least you passed.
I am easily forgotten when the main road reopens, never to be seen again.
I might not be nothing, but being "at least something" hurts just as well.
I will still end up being nothing.
I am nothing
YOU ARE READING
Between summer days and thunderstorms
PoetryThese are poems, it's not a book! These short ones come from the dephts of my heart, and reflect what I go through. Some days are harder than others, as they are for any of us. I use my fantasy to write about it, and numb the pain a bit. I hope you...
