Why is it that
Whenever I have what everyone else wants
I still pine for what I had before?
Why is it when someone clearly loves me
I want those who don't anymore?
My heart hurts for every connection I've made
and lost
Every person, seemingly insignificant,
Is never just a person to me.
Everyone I meet, even for a moment
is important because I met them.

I hate how people purposely forget about people
Without letting those people know why
I hate how, to make ourselves feel better,
we push people away, instead of having
a human conversation and finding
light inside someone
that will bring us together.

I wish my brain could let my lips say
what they mean to the first time
Instead of shying away and never telling a soul
So I resort, to pen and paper,
To heal my wounds and spill my soul.