Maybe, one day, I’ll be loved:
I’ve had a taste of love, a very glimpse of the light at the end of the tunnel. The feeling of pure romance dripping off of your bottom lip isn’t a feeling lost upon me.
The ghost of a touch appears every once in a while, the faint brush of finger tips comes as a surprise. I don’t remember the limited vast memories I have of being held every once in a while.
The sound of laughter plays on my record player, I’m just trying to feel something that left me long ago. It’s weird, but it feels like it’s still around when I know it’s not coming back, not for a while.
Sunsets reflect in those eyes oh so forgotten, etched into a place I got locked out of forever ago when I lost the key. I write down all the feelings I used to feel hoping that the day it happens again, that it’ll be worth it.
Surround myself with love from others and I just get sad, but that’s understandable when it’s something only other people have had.
Maybe, one day, I’ll be loved,
But that day’s not today.