Still Waiting. . .

?
I’m tired of waiting. Sick of the disappointment. Depressed from the hoping.
When I walk by them in the halls.
Every couple I pass.
He’ll be twirling her hair.
She’ll giggle at something he says.
Their eyes will meet.
He’ll put his hand on her cheek.
Their lips will slowly meet.
Her eyes will close.
I turn into the bathroom. I look into the mirror.
Never could I be beautiful enough for love.
Why try?





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