I saw poetry in your eyes and, right then and there, I knew I was under your spell.
Writing is my escape. It’s the thing that jerks me out of my head for a while, distracts me from the noise, helps me channel my frustrations into words — helps me heal.
So why are words not coming easily to me lately, even when life feels so hard?
One day I’ll stop hoping
That your words were written
With me in mind
I should be happy for you, I know I should. But there’s a sharp ache in my chest – knowing you’ll never look at me the way you look at her.