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 

you are.


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, 




By Noam


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