Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Feb 2014
Do I * him?
He's everything I want,
everything I could possibly want in this world.

He makes me want more.

Somehow makes me need more of something he doesn't give.
That's what I * about him.

That's what I want,
* he gives so slightly.

He doesn't know the bipolar blur I am at 2am.
He can close his eyes as my restless ones focus on new upset.
I * him because he's not here.
He's not here to make me impatient.
He's not here to keep me intoxicated with lies.

He never was here, he never was mine.

I cling to him like the stale stench of alcohol on your drunk parents.
Our drunk parents.
Sometimes it wasn't the alcohol that messed things up.
I can assume his parents were proper,
did they * him, do they * him?
I never met them, I never will.

Our parents are ****** up - we share that at least.
He never told me, my best friend we both *d did.
She said it sourly to make me recoil into never needing him.
I needed him more.

When the time came that my dad came back I didn't think I needed approval anymore.
But I *d to know who would still care.
Of course he didn't.

He was the never * and to never * is the saddest thing of all.

He was the never love and to never love is the saddest thing of all.
Lottie Fern
Written by
Lottie Fern  UK.Wiltshire.
(UK.Wiltshire.)   
386
 
Please log in to view and add comments on poems