She stays awake late at night,
Flipping through the dictionary,
Trying to find a word to describe
exactly how she feels.
A single, forlorn figure
Reminiscing about things that
were
and weren’t,
should have been,
and will never be.

This is the moment
when fear and regret
collide.

And I will never trust my heart again,
For I needed love,
But he never showed up.
And I was disappointed.
As always.

And so I spend my days in hollow happiness,
Living only to
See the sparkle in his eyes
Wanting only to

Dream until my dreams come true.

That little girl, soft-spoken and heartbroken,
She’s a wishful thinker with the worst intentions.

Her sanguine soul ignites a passionate hope
whenever those deviant eyes deign to look her way—
For she knows there’s nothing more tragic
than a lost and lonely beauty.

And dreams?
They’re overrated,
says the girl who gave up yesterday.

There’s no somewhere over the rainbow for me,
No place far away enough.
Because no matter where I go,
I’ll be here,
Waiting for him to love me
and lying to my clouded senses,
promising my tears that he really does care.

With him,
I lose myself.

Without him,
I find myself searching to be lost again.

He makes about a centimeter of sense,
But he’ll always be my infinity
On a scale from one to ten.