I'm looking at you; on this side of the looking glass and my tears blur out my vision.
Your looking at her, and here I stand looking up and down trying to block out the sounds of my sobs and it never stopped.
Because every time I looked up you were there, but you were looking at her and the only things that gave me hope were the secret glances I saw you give me.
I would replay them until the remote broke, yet not even hopes of chances could numb out the pain of your passion for her.
So eventually with that I gave into the hell, and when black spots started to cloud my vision from all the hope and fires that I was feeling; I was drained; numb.
When every inch that remained felt glum waiting for its own execution. This is what happened when I took the chance.
This is what became of me when I saw through the looking glass.
YOU ARE READING
Fix me.
PoesieThis is where i escape. This is where i spend my days, in between thoughts about suicide and what else I would do to be held in your arms.
