He is like my dream.
A reality in my snooze land.
Just barely there.
When he looks at me.
I am ecstatic.
Until I realize he just barely feels the same.
Falling for it every damn time.
I get hurt, even when I know it will come.
And every single time I convince myself a lie.
Every time.
He looks at me and gives attention.
I start dreaming and it hurts again.
I lost count of how many time it happened.
And it seems that whenever it happens.
My hope and pride keeps getting a paper cut.
YOU ARE READING
A Poetry Book
PoetryA collection of poetry I, @canpotcat, have written over the past 3 years. Basically somewhat like my diary because every poem I wrote was at the moment about how I was feeling and what happened. And just something to know, a couple of the poetry wri...
