bumbling about

62

so i found an anonymous poem on a website and wanted to share it idk i'll probably delete this but here you go

Her.

Every time she says her name, its like one more stab in the chest.
Its like the knife is being pushed deeper and deeper.
I didn't tell her. I'll never tell her.
I'll keep it in the smile I put on when she says her name.
And the affection that I give her when they're fighting.
I wish it was me.
I sit beside her as she cries.
I would never hurt her.

Her.
She is all I think of.
In bed at night when I am trying to sleep.
Even in the shower, as I wash myself.
It is not a sexual feeling, it is whole and true.
If this is not love,
then I do not know what love is.

This hurts enough.
Knowing she's not mine,
and never will be.
Yet, how can I be angry?
Her girl is smart, beautiful, interesting.
Everything that I am not.
Her girl makes her happy.
Surely, that should make me happy?
But it doesn't.
At the mention of her name,
I break a little bit more.

It shouldn't hurt.
Seeing her like this.
Seeing them together,
laughing at nothing.
And I should not want to cry,
when I think of them.
I should not.
But I do.

I am falling deeper and deeper into a non-existent hole.
Because how can I be protective,
so hung up,
over someone who was never mine?

Her.
The way she lights up when her favourite song comes on the radio.
Or how her nose scrunches up when she laughs.
Her.
Her wholeness,
her beauty,
her youth.
Her ever growing wonder of the world and all that is in it.
She has left me in the remains of this hurricane.
And I am okay.
Because although she is not mine,
I can still love her.
And I do love her.
And I always will.

okay well that made me emo alright thats all bye