Why was I so foolish to believe that someone could see me as special?
It's too often that I look in the mirror, and curse what I see,
touch places on my body with disgust,
frown at my own face.
I thought maybe this time..
THIS TIME,
someone would see me as beautiful.
Couldn't it be simple?
Beauty... shouldn't it be simple?
But again, what is beauty?
Must my love constantly be misplaced?
I shoot the arrow at my target with confidence, grace, will and speed.
But my faulty aim sends it misguided, missing my target 10/10 times.
I've been kicked out, trampled on,
broken and shattered, left alone to pick myself up again.
How much joy I feel everytime I see you, gorgeous.
Somewhere along the lines I mixed up my own dreams and fantasies of you - glazing over cold reality with layer upon layer of naivity.
Eventually, I could only see my own perception - and it's like I could hear you breathing close to me, and kissing me, and wrapping yourself up in me, so we can forget about the world.
But the truth...
I am sitting here,
breathing steadily in and out,
my brown eyes, wide like glass gems,
filling with tears,
listening to the sounds of the night,
feeling my heart race,
and wiping away my false exterior.
