Publié depuis Eklablog

Not the one.

« I’m beginning to think love was made for certain people, but not for me.

For people who live the way I do, it’s much uncommon for us to find love.

It’s not my beauty that excites you, it’s not my figure that make you fall for me, no it’s the way I am never around yet you still long for me even though you know I will never be there. Yet when I appear nothing happens! 

Don’t worry you’re not breaking my heart when you’re with her,

I expect you to be with someone unlike me who feels better alone, I am aware not many people feel this way. 

You are not breaking my heart when you tell her you love her,

I never believe that you loved me.

You are not breaking my heart when you touch her, you never touched me in a way that made me feel loved. 

You are not breaking my heart when you dial her number, you never called me anyway.

You can live your life; pain has known me the moment I left my mother’s womb.

Sorrows consumed me at a very young age that now I don’t know how to be happy.

You are not breaking my heart when you say you don’t love me, they never do.

But yet they still look for me as if there’s something there.

I write the way I bleed, chaotic, messy, emotional, unrequited, unloved but prideful. »