The day you told me I was not loved by you,
was the day I broke into two versions of
A version that despised, seeked revenge
and wanted nothing but to dispose of you.
The other version of myself, was somewhat
inspired by being unloved by you.
I carry my lonesome self, I do not need
your messages that broke me or your
cowardly stares to lift me.
Yet, there still remains a version of
myself that fantasizes about you and I.
Fantasies of the two of us hand in hand,
your freckled arms wrapped
around my very waist.
Your eyes told me stories that your mouth
was far too afraid to tell.
Stories of how lonely and unfulfilled
This is when she enters your picture and destroys
all that I have dreamt for you and I.
She ruined all that I have awaited,
you seemed to lock eyes out of the very blue.
Now, all I think of,
are your arms,
wrapped around her waist
and here I am,
wrapped in my own arms,
loved, not by you,