What torture it is
to witness love,
only from a far,
and never participate.
I find myself
writing about what
love should be
sharing cute couple
pictures with cheesy quotes
and yet still being alone.
I feel that I am doomed
to be the stenographer
of this little blue orb,
and all that lies outside its walls.
I document but never experience
I write but never feel.
My only regret is
maybe my one true whatever
has already come and gone,
and left me behind,
but wouldn't I know if I had
been in that one true
whatever?
And so, I will write on,
observe love from far away
and hope for my
one
true
whatever.
Mar 2, 2015
Mar 2, 2015 at 8:51 PM UTC
What torture it is
to witness love,
only from a far,
and never participate.
I find myself
writing about what
love should be
sharing cute couple
pictures with cheesy quotes
and yet still being alone.
I feel that I am doomed
to be the stenographer
of this little blue orb,
and all that lies outside its walls.
I document but never experience
I write but never feel.
My only regret is
maybe my one true whatever
has already come and gone,
and left me behind,
but wouldn't I know if I had
been in that one true
whatever?
And so, I will write on,
observe love from far away
and hope for my
one
true
whatever.
