How is it that you can make me feel so alone,
Even in the most crowded of places?
Or maybe the better question is
Why?
You, who has the power
To make me happy more than anyone else can,
Who makes happy all the time.
Most of the time.
So why, then, do I always end up getting hurt?
Listening to others around me,
Laughing,
Smiling,
Having a grand old time,
Makes me hurt all the more.
And what do you do?
Continue to ignore.
I know you don't mean it.
I know you don't want to make me feel this way.
But I do, and you do.
So what is there to do?
At this point, I don't know.
Nor do I know how to know.
Wishing it could be different
Wouldn't actually change anything.
I suppose I could just cry,
Until my eyes are dried out
And there is nothing left but dried up love.
I just hope it breathes life again sometime soon.