Eyelids get heavy as i reload the messages for the thousandth time When will i get that he doesn't feel like i do hanging onto every word like a baby it's shoe every few minutes falling needing to be picked up again feeling as helpless and useless as without my pen well maybe all is not lost he never said it was I shouldn't over think everything he does trying to read the signs when really i'm blind without a clue how he feels so i put on my heels swap my jeans for a dress and wait for someone to make me less I am whatever they want because I amn't enough for him Pathetically in my tears later I will swim.
The contrast between my last poem and this appears quite bipolar but i've not gone crazy I swear (fingers crossed^.^) not that people who are bipolar are crazy..just me :)