Whenever I love something,
it’s temporary like a bubble.
I see it but I cannot touch it,
for it will pop.
Bubbles are such fragile things.
How can something so lovable be so close and yet be untouchable,
unreachable,
unattainable?
It feels so unreal.
I can love them how much I want
but I can never have them.
Trapped outside the bubbles of my paradise.
Alone,
watching the things I love.