I see everyone around me getting married.
I'm always a little shocked, but I'm also jealous. I want that love.
I want someone to feel like that for me, but instead I watch you read my messages but never reply.

If every eligible person was a flower, I would be wilted in partial shade, while the others are springy and colorful.
I have always gone unnoticed, and I must stay that way because I am simply too difficult for anyone to love.
I seem to be a little beyond my years, and no one's ready for my intensity.
I burn too bright, too hard.

I hate it most when you fake it.
I told you I wanted honesty. No matter if that meant you hurting me.
Instead you stopped talking to me, and now I am haunted by your smile and all the charming things you said.

But the worst of all is that doubt.
Did you mean what you said? Did you care?
You still swear yes.
But my brain is screaming no, while my heart remains forever hopeful that someday I could have someone mean it.