My way with words
Will never be enough
To turn my weakness into confidence
To twist my self-doubt into any kind of self-worth
Just because
I know how to make words seem pretty
Does not mean
I know how to feel like I am
Like I am ****
Like I am anything to be desired
My ability to write love poems
Is the closest thing I will ever have
To love itself
Is the closest thing I will ever have to stability
I am always inbetween
Always temptress
Never only
Only lover on the side
I crave to be more
Crave to be cradled by hands
That are not just temporary
I have never known permanence well
And am sick of watching people go
Sick of goobyes
Of false promises
Of not now but later
Of we'll be together someday
I do not live in light of the future
Only now
Only present
Day by day
Again and again
I have been told
That eventually I will be the sole patron of an unvacant heart
But waiting is not my strong suit
And I have sacrificed too much already
Without receiving anything in return
I give away parts of me
And save nothing for myself
I do not know the outcome of it all
But if I could write my own destiny
If I could write my own romance novel
I would put myself in happy ending
Put myself in his arms
And never leave.