he is beautiful.
who is he?
the man in my dreams, the one i feel against my cheek when i am slowly drifting to sleep. the one who slightly sings to me as we lay intertwined together. the one who's eyes graze over me, and make me pause mid sentence just to admire. the man i know, the man i love.
you know he isn't real.
but he is, as the senses are all there.
he doesn't know your name.
but there could be a possibility? the world is endless.
filled with endless hope my dear. your better off alone. stop hurting yourself.
but i am not. for he will know of me someday and my arms shall be draped across each other as all we do is love.
haven't you've done that before? haven't you had your heart ripped from beneath your chest from the same exact hands that are attached to your one and only true love? haven't you cried to yourself silently because once again those same eyes that you loved so much, now look at you with hatred. because those same fingers that lightly graze upon your skin now hardly touch, leaving you unsatisfied?
you are filled with useless hope.
and as i again, let my demons within me fight against my own words. i whisper to them once before we drift into endless slumber.
"i guess you're right."
-zmh
YOU ARE READING
the ruins of me
Poetryi love you; said me every time foolishly. if you see any grammer mistakes, please do not hesitate to contact me politely about them! also credit to whoever may have taken the picture of the flowers for my cover, I did edit it a bit but other than...
