I look into his eyes and lose my sense of time
Deep beneath my insides I know Ill never be his perfect dream
But it's nice to dream
It's nice to imagine the colorful sugar coated wonders beneath the foggy abyss through clouded speculations, insecurities, and piled high on a mountain of false bravery.
I'm not brave.
I tend to have a big mouth though.
And through all my cowardly insides I have a temper but really, I'm all bite and no bark.
I get so angry I will sneak attack and you won't know until I have the knife to your throat.
I get so sad you would think I'm happy until you catch me dropping the fake smile that fools even the most observant people.
I fall so deeply I shock myself with airborne feeling and it's almost too late to be caught before I plummet into a series of depression, rejection and lots of chocolate.
I don't know what it means to have real friends.
I get hurt so easily you wouldn't even know until you realize I've distanced myself enough to watch your downfall unfold.
I don't know how to love because I've never seen love.
I don't know the signs. I hardly know enough about myself.
What's strange is I read those around me like an open book. Casually lingering in the shadows, watching, waiting for their true selves to unravel.
I've been doing this for years. I keep the fake sweet girl attitude because it's so easy to act then show myself to you.
My feelings convey myself and I'm afraid of leaving myself open again.
This poem, if it is to considered a poem, has no point. I enjoy a good rant and I often hold these things in.
I suppose I'm weak in that way.
I have no idea how to truly express the pain I feel because I don't know if it's really pain.
I look into his eyes and I feel happy. I forget my pain but it's still there. I'm not oblivious to it's cold hand on my shoulder waiting to lead me back to it's darkness.
I listen to the words of those around me because it's better to have my guard up then let myself down to disappointment again.