I don't know what disappoints me more.
That “I promise” is just something you say to shut me up or the fact that I fall for it every time.
That I tell you I’ve planned a special dinner, but I end up eating alone.
That the little things mean nothing anymore.
That I can see that I don’t make you happy and you pretend everything’s fine.
That it’s not fair when I cry because it makes you feel bad or that when you actually are here it’s more lonely then when aren’t.
Or how I know that the bottle will always come before me, but still I stay.
Dec 21, 2013
Dec 21, 2013 at 10:27 PM UTC
I don't know what disappoints me more.
That “I promise” is just something you say to shut me up or the fact that I fall for it every time.
That I tell you I’ve planned a special dinner, but I end up eating alone.
That the little things mean nothing anymore.
That I can see that I don’t make you happy and you pretend everything’s fine.
That it’s not fair when I cry because it makes you feel bad or that when you actually are here it’s more lonely then when aren’t.
Or how I know that the bottle will always come before me, but still I stay.
Request permission to use this poem