A poem I’ve been waiting to read in a Slam Poetry event.

Like I puzzle I think you would be a great fit.
But is it my mind who thinks you’re perfect?
The infatuation leads to frustration-
Texts turn to calls,  
I think I’ve done it all….
for your attention.

 overthinking of how much you like me,
But in reality
Its only what I want to see.
You don’t like me.
And  I don’t love you.
But it’s the thought of what we could be.
The infatuation leads to frustration-
But now I see with my eyes
and how you don’t reply.
My mind is free-
and I don’t see what I want to believe.

This poem was written a few weeks ago and I thought I would share. Currently trying to get my shit together so I was going to post original content later today, but when I get home I have a lot to get started on.

Reminder: call your mom

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