I can't take it anymore.
I feel like a persistent dog that never gets the treat.
I am tired of chasing you.
A hopeful flame, then cold, stabbing water.
Why do I keep making the same mistake?
Maybe it's your feline coal eyes...
No. Stop. Focus.
I am a callow goldfish, I take the bait.
I celebrate my luck, and suddenly realize that lucky I am not.
Your gentle smile always convinces me to give you a second chance.
I hate that.
But I don't hate you.
I just wish that, somehow, you could make up your mind.
So just pick anything,
because anything hurts less than the uncertain waves that now sweep me
off my feet.
YOU ARE READING
Identity I
PoetryA sequence of poems I made throughout the years. Just something to read when you're bored (I recommend "TIME" and "LOVE POEM?"). If you're looking for emotional, try "SLOUGH" or "ENDS MEAT."
