A long time ago I thought love was as simple as knowing what someone’s favorite things are. I’ve grown up since then. Love is staying awake till 3 A.M. to welcome someone else home. Love is driving for hours in the freezing snow, just to spend a couple moments with someone else. Love isn’t about knowing every single little thing about someone else. Love is about wanting to know every little thing about someone else. Love is about effort.
I remember late December, after school.
A drunken fool with nothing left to lose.
A desperate girl, afraid of what to say.
But no words were spoken on that day.
Instead, a touch, a kiss, a bed for two.
It’s all I remember when I think of you.
A thousand words, across a hundred miles.
A thousand tears for every smile.
But you left.
And so I wept, I screamed, I cried.
So much pain, I kept inside.
Alone at night, with drinks for two.
I wonder, if he loves you too.
Alone with the girl I love, asleep in her bed.
Ignoring those messages left unread.
I love your poems but even tho they’re so sad ;.;