poems i write at 2 a.m. and decide to post

fourteen

i know he loves me.

but why do i still cry?

why do i still worry

when he still takes up my time?

we talk and talk for hours

with the feelings that are ours

and yet i find myself

on the verge of tears.

why am i the way i am?

i'm not really sure

but i know that there really is

no cure.

it's just me and by myself

i cry

for i know the day is coming

when he will no longer be mine.

he'll tire of me soon

of that i am certain

and then i know that i

will find myself behind death's curtain.