Hope is for Suckers
I'm not getting my hopes up.
I've had too many people speak flowery language into my life
only to make me feel like I'm the fool for believing their lies.
I'm not getting my hopes up.
Allowing you to have all the power
only to take it away at the last minute
and try to convince me that it didn't mean anything
or that it was all pretend.
I'm not getting my hopes up.
Because deep down,
I know you don't mean it.
I know you don't.
I know you,
and you don't.
I guess I'll continue to be your distraction,
your escape,
because I can only be the person you want me to be,
when you control me in your mind
and in your dreams.
Secret and Safe
I could tell them all that I had a brain tumor
that I overcame an obstacle that was so difficult
and I made it through successfully.
But I fear I will be met with one of two responses.
One,
the person could see me as broken,
damaged,
that I am to be coddled and held
and that I am too fragile to do anything that I set my mind to.
Or,
They could look at me,
and say,
"that makes so much sense,"
"I knew something was off about you,"
"that's why you are the way you are,"
Both seem like terrible options,
so I'll keep it a secret,
I'll keep it safe,
and at the same time
keep myself secret and safe.
Trapped in a Dream
It's hard being a hopeless romantic
when you don't even know if you want to be loved.
Like I can't imagine having to date someone,
but I can picture so clearly washing dishes with someone in the kitchen
as I splash water at them
and they swat me with a towel.
And I don't even know if I want to let someone know every part of me,
but I can picture being with someone on the couch,
my legs draped over their lap as we read books
their hand idly moving across my leg.
Getting distracted to talk about everything and anything that pops into our minds.
It's difficult being trapped in a beautiful mind,
where the dreams feel so real,
when the reality of the world is that it's crumbling
and I don't want what it has to offer.
Not Going To Happen Again.
A relationship is no longer in the stars for me.
And I don't mean that in a way where it's,
woe is me,
no one will love me.
I truly mean it in a way where I no longer want to make room in my life
for someone who will ultimately disappoint me.
Why would I want to feel unsure of myself
or feel self-conscious of my looks and body again?
Why would I want to be nervous about sharing my dreams with someone
who will never be as passionate about them as I am?
Why would I add someone when I have to subtract everything about myself that makes me interesting and unique?
Why would I lower my guard
only to have them prove to me
why I have my walls up to begin with?
My Secret Romantic Wishes
I wish I could be held,
so close that all the noise is shut out
and all that remains is you and me
tangled up together.
I wish I could have my hand held,
with gentle swipes of their thumb across my skin
to just let me know that they are here
and present with me
through the mundane.
I wish I could lay next to someone,
the sun glistening on our faces
as our arms barely touch each others
and we talk about the future and our dreams
on a blanket in the park.
I wish I could share headphones with someone
passing the phone back and forth
sharing music that reminds us of beautiful times
as my head rests on their shoulder.
I wish I could slow dance in the kitchen
with a record playing softly
as I sway on my tip toes
with an arm around my waist
pulling me closer
with soft humming in my ears.
I wish I could run in the rain,
being chased as we splash through puddles
laughing so hard that we feel we could burst
into starlight.
Dream and Nightmare
I feel like I'm a beautiful dream
an illusion of sorts
because in the cover of night, with your eyes closed
I can be everything you want me to be.
But in the harsh reality of morning
when my hair is a mess
and I don't live up to the expectation inside your head
I will always be the thing that you can't fathom why you wanted in the first place.
Joke
I feel like a joke,
like,
who do I think I am?
I'm never going to be a leader
or the smartest person in the room.
I'm never going to be the prettiest,
or the funniest.
It feels like the goals and dreams for myself
are too lofty
and it feels like everyone around me knows it to be true.
Who did I think I was,
being in plays
and going back to school.
I'm never going to be enough for myself
which is so frustrating.
What’s Wrong With Me?
I'm always going to be the person
who is admired from afar,
never to be loved close up.
I'm always going to be the girl
you confess your admiration for
from a safe distance.
But the second you get close
those feeling always melt away.
And I don't understand what it is about me
that makes people not want me in a real way.
Perhaps I've become so confident in presenting the best parts of myself
that the real me is always going to fall short.