The worst feeling in the world isn’t pain. It isn’t sadness. It isn’t anger. No, the worst feeling is never being able to share those feelings with anyone else.
She read my thoughts, on paper and pen.
She cried, and promised I’d never write like this again.
She held me close, and ran her fingers through my hair.
I felt no comfort; only despair.
I held on to my feelings, and never let one slip out.
Even when I was at the end, wanting to scream and shout.
I was right to be scared.
After so long, she gave up, leaving me with no one there.
It happens, time and time again.
Promises of feelings shown on more than paper and pen.
Yet like always
Again and again
I’m alone, regardless of promises, in the end.
