That moment where the past four months just feel a waste.
When you look inside yourself and think,
Am I not good enough?
What's wrong with me?
Why can't I be happy?
Then you look back at him and think,
I love you.
Why can't you love me?
The tears flow freely, but to no relief.
The only assistance could be him.
Holding you, shushing you, and telling you you'll be alright.
But instead you have the cold sheets you sleep on at night,
And the cat laying at your feet.
But that's not what you want.
Even though it could be what you need.