Staring into cold confusion,
I feel tired. Tired of waiting.
Tired of being alone...
If you were only mine
and if I were only yours, then perhaps...
Yet If is only so real in the make believe world...
Shadowed stars shine dimly
in the lit sky of my heart...
A fleeting moment repeated so often.
Yet I never get to hold,
hold the meanig of the moment...
hold the hand I want to touch...
And as I am lost in the
spiralling void of emptiness
-Am I really empty?
Or I only fail to see
that which fills me?
Or have I emptied it?
Why do I have to choose who...
Can it not just be?
Yet I only wish to feel loved.
And yet whom I feel
does not feel me...
I am merely a ghost.
A spirit trapped in the
world of emotional limbo.
A wraith...
doomed to haunt his self
until he is...
Yet February has come and gone...
And I still feel the cold
touch of Cupid's steel...
Reason for writing:
There are times when we try to show affection to a person, and yet our
efforts are not taken noticed of... as if we do not exist... a mere play of shadows in the persons life.
I wrote "February Wraith" because of this feeling or experiene... whatever you want to call it.
You are a liar if you say you never felt this way before...
Birth sign: Libra
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