Messenger bubbles

For every measure of me

that pours out affection

So there are two

still stuck in reflection

 

Be it blessed, of love

or wretched, of doubt

Each hour of her silence

Thoughts I’ll not go without

 

So unsure am I as to why

my true efforts aren’t met

Heart and mind turn awry

and negative thoughts beset

 

For all the similes I employ

And imagery my words drew

im fucking fed up with this

like honestly, fuck you

---

I wrote this piece really late one night when I was waiting on a text from a friend… Well let’s just say I was waiting a while and got a little annoyed halfway through the last stanza.