"don't I make you happy? Why are you always so down?"
"No I'm not happy?"
The words dripped from my peeling lips
It slipped
I couldn't grasp it or reel it in in time.
I was always bad at fishing...
They stare at me with so much just in their clinging eyes
" You aren't happy with me?"
My mouth gaping, trying to see what they were thinking.
Trying to reach into the soul I could never have
Trying to know.
Im shaking as my brain races
Calculating every possible answer they could say.
I rehearsed my lines a thousand times
But now it seems more like an inprov show to me.
They open their peach colored lips
But no answer.
The same lips that Ive collided mine unto a hundred times can't talk to me.
The only deep eyes i can maintain eye contact with can't look at me.
They turn away like every other person I've come into contact with.
Im questioning everything.
Do they think I don't love them?
Do they think they don't make me happy?
Do they think they are not enough for me?
Are they rethinking our time together as if everything I told them was a joke?
Is this real?
Would i ever be able to confront with answers?
But
Why are they so stunned when I asked?
Im the same person who sliced open their skin countless times since 4th grade.
Im the same person who
Loaded the gun
Tied the noose
Took the pills
Lied in the road for hours
More than 7 times.
Maybe its because im also the one who also
Held them close
Kissed their forehead
Looked into their eyes and couldn't look away
Would walk miles to see them
Constantly asks if they are okay
I act happy so why cant I be?
Maybe that is why I hold them.
They make me happy.
But what is happiness?
Is it the feelings I get when
I see a text
Snuggle at 1am
Sneak out to see them
Kiss them?
Maybe I do know happiness.
Because that is what they are to me.
"It's- "
Their soft hair shuffle as they turn their twinkling smile back to me
Oh God.
They smirk.
Im helpless.
I answered my own question,
"It's being with you.
You make me happier than I've ever felt"
CITEȘTI
I'm So Exhausted
Poezie#1 in poem #1 in poetrycollection #1 in vent #2 in memory this is just a compilation of my vent poetry-ish (that i can find) from 4th grade to whenever i stop this (I'm 18 now) Im not the best with words but i write in spouts of thoughts
