Most of the time I just sit here, watching them,
Wondering if any of them have felt it.
The only feeling that is hard to condemn.
The only feeling that is hard to admit.
It's easy to watch them as they go on their merry ways,
To pretend that I wasn't one of them once,
To pretend that I too, wasn't in that phase.
To pretend that I wasn't always this dunce.
I'm just a wallflower, now, and I look on in contempt,
As they interlock fingers and grin too widely,
Love, never, I will not, again, attempt,
They don't hold onto hearts, just keep them idly.
And I hate the way that society talks about it,
Like love is all about the physicalities
People aren't willing to really commit,
They're not looking for personalities.
Good damn, we had it. Didn't we though?
If compared to the one-night stands of the world?
But in love, both people have to always grow,
I wasn't ready for love, I was just still a girl.
YOU ARE READING
Chasing the Chaos
PoetryThis is just a little collection of poems and words that flow from pen to this virtual form of a dead tree in order to stem the passion that's bursting inside me.
