I’m just so tired, and too exhausted to cry, and too numb to be sad, and I don’t know what this is all for, but I can’t stop from trying. And these words weigh me down more than the poems I have not written. And It’s been a long time since I’ve felt the moon, and I’m afraid there is no purpose to my heart, and every thing seems distorted, and I’m tired of my skin, and stating this aloud feels pathetic and useless. I really need a break from my self. It’s one of those days, again.

I know
You are
Not
The one
For me
But
Kiss me
Anyway

Selfish
I am the worst
Kind of selfish
I am the selfless kind of selfish
That unconditionally does nice things
For other people
Solemnly because it makes me feel limitedly better
About myself

I cried for you in my dream last night,
even in unconsciousness I miss you.

I felt like writing
A haiku for you today
But I decided

To write these ******* lines
To you
Instead