I try and occupy myself,
By searching for a good read,
I don't have anything in mind.
I never really do.
Because it's not what I come here for, anymore.
I don't have to.
I don't need to.
But I do.
For him, I do.
Just to watch him as he works,
Just to look into those beautiful eyes again,
The ones I dream about every night.
No.
I can't think about him.
I should leave.
I should go away.
Go away and never come back.
I can't keep torturing myself like this,
I don't need this.
It only adds to the pain.
It only makes me feel weaker.
And I can't,
I think as I run my hand absent-mindedly,
Across the leather covers on the shelf,
I can't.
I've had enough of this.
Why do I keep coming back here?
I can't do this anymore, I muse.
"You can't do what anymore?"
YOU ARE READING
Him & Her
ПоэзияHe is in love with her. She is in love with him. Their problem? She can't speak. He doesn't know if he can wait. But they both want a happy ending. Badly. A love that was mute, unspoken, but deep, all the same. It's not complicated. Unless you're...
