a hopeless romantic's winding tales of love and other things.

wilted

i knew that it was never going to be me.
but being reassured it wasn't,
hurts more than you'd imagine.

why can't i be loved
the way the others can?
i just don't understand.
am i really that bad?

endless pining after you
created sleepless nights
and scenarios in my head that would never play true.

i think a part of me
wanted to believe that you could've felt the same.
but now knowing you never have;
and never will,

has made me sick to my stomach.
i can't compete with the others,
they're all beautiful blooming flowers,
and i am nothing but a worthless weed.