And the very girl,
Who loves you,
Sits idle by.
And the very girl,
Who cares for you,
Can't help.
And the very girl,
Who met you,
Wants to meet you again.
And the very girl,
Who means what she says,
You deflect.
And the very girl,
Who you mean the world to,
She can't show it.
And the very girl,
Who wishes she meant the world to you,
Probably doesn't.
And the very girl,
Who wants to help,
Tries her best.
And the very girl,
Staying up late to talk to you,
Her heart flutters.
And the very girl,
Who's face heats up when you smirk,
Lifts into a smile.
And the very girl,
Who smiles for you,
Knows you can't see.
And the very girl,
Who wonders what it would be like,
If you knew.
And the very girl,
Who loves every moment with you,
Loves you.
And the very girl,
So dramatic, she is,
Could cause drama over you.
And the very girl,
Who waits for you,
Gets impatient.
And the very girl,
Who cares for you,
Strives to help.
And the very girl,
Who loves you,
Still sits.
And this very girl is me.
(Not as in me-me (the author) this is just the poem. I still did write it, though.)
YOU ARE READING
𝘐𝘯𝘧𝘢𝘵𝘶𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 || 𝘗𝘰𝘦𝘵𝘳𝘺
Poetryinfatuation (n.) (m.) being completely carried away by foolish love or affection The thoughts of my heart course through my brain like a raging river. They haunt me until I let them go. Down to the paper before they write themselves a story. One...
