Nothing feels right.
I feel sick.
I feel upside down.
I feel powerless to stop the onslaught.
Of what I thought was here to stay.
So quick to fade away.
I realize here today.
It was all a game to play.
Only our games were not the same.
It went as fast as it came.
She held me in her hand.
I melted into her plans.
Only her plans in my mind.
Were far different than her life.
Where I was one of many.
Kept around to make her smile.
And me, I ache for thee.
I never get a breath.
I never get any peace.
I never get relief.
I love.  I love you so.
I thought that you should know.
I didn't know once you knew.
You'd up and want to go.
So I'm left feeling used.
I'm picking up on clues.
Just haven't heard the news.
So won't you tell me too?
What is it that you say.
About me when I'm away?
To your friends, to your men, to your mom?
To yourself, to the world, to your songs?
Do you love me, do you like me, do you care?
Do you miss me when I'm not there?
Do you want me to stay around?
Am I more than an ego-boost now?
Or am I what you are to me?
That I just cannot see.
I hope so, but I don't know.
I don't know why I hope.
So I'm left feeling blue.
With thoughts and dreams of you.
I gave you more than you knew.
And you ran from me, is this true?
See I still can't figure it out.
My brain is racked with doubt.
And my heart is aching so.
Knowing what I do not know.
So just open up to me.
Tell me yes or let me be.
Tell me what you want to do.
So I know how to feel for you.
I miss you.
Do you miss me?
I'd kiss you.
Would you kiss me?
Why do you leave me?
Why do you ignore me?
What did I do?
What changed?
Who are you in love with?
Am I being used?
Am I a stepping stone?
How can you be comfortable not talking to me?
When I'm burning to talk to you?
I don't understand you.
I don't know you.
I love you.
But I haven't the slightest clue what you are.
So please help me.
To figure it out.
To cleanse my doubt.
To revitalize myself.
Please, I need your help.
Let me know what to think.
Let me know what to feel.
Let me know what you are.
Please tell me what's for real.


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A poem begins as a lump in the throat, a sense of wrong, a homesickness, a lovesickness. It finds the thought and the thought finds the words.

Robert Frost (1875-1963) American Poet.

xtlsx’s Poems (21)

Title Comments
Title Comments
The death kiss. 1
Please. 0
P. 0
in-between state 0
you exist 0
let's go 0
You (Understood). 0
Thank You. 1
Brilliance 0
come and take 0
untitled 0
For Connie. 0
You are not 13 years old. 0
Release. 0
Keep. 0
Scream out. 1
untitled 1
No need. 0
I Read the Date. 0
So What's Your Belief? 1
Vibrant. 0