Love is a trip I have often missed…
I never get swept off my feet. I just trip, slipping on slick lines spit by cons too jaded to be just. I trust. Spoon fed sweet nothings blinded by cravings never getting enough, it’s a bust. I must, shake off the lust thrust the bullshit aside and call out their bluff. Level up. Hiccups and trip-ups sipping on empty promises filling up on false hope. Condescending, painting pictures of happy endings from beautiful beginnings I’m provoked so I choke. Over-consumption of bitter kisses from silky lips, unfulfilled wishes backed by half-assed gifts. It’s a miss. The connection failing the fakeness prevailing, so the love is derailed, and I find that I’m bailing once again. Left to fend off bad feelings of being unappealing the discord revealing weaknesses I bury inside. Vulnerability I try so hard to hide. The agony of being unwanted. Hungry for more than what is typically given, I’m constantly haunted. Left livid but living. Other chances to explore; to seek out my kind. To find sincere affection from a genuine mind.