Come home
Go through the door
Nearly collapse
On the front steps
Slip off shoes
Crawl into bed

It'd be nice
To watch a movie
Or read a good book
But I'm drained
And tired
So I'll go to sleep instead

I yearn to rest my eyes
Blanket them with my lids
Sleep deprived
I miss the night
I'm tired
And I know you are, too

i keep telling myself that i can't remember the last time i was happy
but deep down i know well

do i even know myself? i can't even tell
not within the past year or so, a shame but i don't ask for pity

it is all self inflicted
the only joy i retain is outweighed by the accumulation of pain

how do you cure your sadness
when it is also caused by the source of your happiness

tired of the flow
tired of the “NOs”

when will i ever be myself again?

the only one i
have
ever seen a future with

i am afraid
you will tell me you don’t
love me
anymore

it gnaws
in my brain and
my dreams poke
fun at the fear

there is
no reason why
but perhaps attention
will shift from me

low maintenance is all
i want to be
you told me you’re burnt
out

of affection

scared hands turn to hover
i cry too much
and i hate myself for it

convinced myself you
probably are just busy
which you are
but then i fear

being four texts
in a row
feels like begging

you don’t know my
fear, he left me
without a hint

spent months selling out
for dopamine and affection
and only got a sore jaw

you held me when i cried
the first time i tried for you

i cry too much
and
i hate myself for it

I'm spent
No more lyrics of love and metaphors
The words fell out like mouthfalls
Each rock struck a new poem
Each glistening rainbow a new idea
Each droplet of mist my persistence

I'm spent
I thought it was beautiful to see life
To truly see what it's like to be free
Now I envy the lovestruck fools
Blinded by their individuality
Ironically enveloped in community
Head up *** and foot in mouth

I'm spent
What's the use in giving my thoughts
Everyone either relates or claims false
I'm a liar, a beggar of attention
***** of Babylon I beg on my knees
Waiting for one true prince to pick me
Like that daffodil I pressed in a book
I don't want the prince, or the flower
I want to be alone.
But I hate to be alone.