What he doesn’t know, hurts him.

 If only he knew…

He lays next to me reading a poem about you 

I think he thinks he’s set up to lose. 


I think he thinks there’s a chance I’ll change my mind

As he reads my poems I think this thought process becomes even more defined. 


If only he knew, I write poems about heartbreak. 

I lay away till day break writing about all the pain I can’t shake. 


Even he acknowledges he’s heard one for him during the good times we weren’t in. 

I haven’ wrote him a poem because he hasn’t hurt me 

There’s no pain to channel only good times we’ve handled. 


It’s not to say we haven’t argued 

Or been toxic 

Or on the steering wheel, almost lost grip 


We’ve crashed for sure 

But when I open my eyes somehow I am still in his arms and secure 


I hadn’t seen him in weeks 

But it didn’t stop him from loving on me. 

Hugging on me. 

Rubbing on me…


I want him.

If only he knew. 



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