Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Nov 8
Someday mine might think of me
when times are good, not low.
I worry and wonder all the time,
for who or what, I'm no longer sure.
It feels as if I'm filled to the brim,
with all for others I wish for myself,
but I was never trained to self sustain,
or cause a ruckus while I wait.
Celebrating big and small, I bring flowers to the brunch.
I'll remain pretty, and patient,
generous and kind,
and wait for someone who has the capacity
for mine.
It took five months for you to remember we used to be best friends, and I'm sorry you lost your job, but even sorrier I didn't tell you that it hurt me to get that 4am text where you wished me happy birthday on the wrong day and didn't ask once how I have been.
Written by
pleblderblerbmerbcschrb  22/fatigue
(22/fatigue)   
23
     TangerineBlu3 and Jeremy Betts
Please log in to view and add comments on poems