Unrequited love is rough.
You question why you're not good enough.
Why can't this person love me back?
Why can't I stand up after this heart attack?
I quickly stumble and hit my head.
The bed I've made is a lonely one - I'd rather be in yours, instead.
I call you and ask if you're still in love.
You say, "there was a time" and I can't help but cry.
I text you drunkenly, hoping you'll reply.
The dopamine has left the scene and I'll take an SSRI - awaiting for an answer, and playing in the blind.
