I Wish I Was Someone Worth Loving

I wish I was someone worth loving.

I wish I had goals and ambition

and a desire for a career

like women of this society are

expected to want to want these days,

but I don’t.

 

I wish I looked the way that

boy want me to look

so that I could be someone worth loving,

that I could be thin with big boobs

and a natural blonde with a pleasing face,

but I’m not.

 

I wish I had something to offer the world

so that I could be someone worth loving;

maybe a skill or talent,

or even money to give the less fortunate,

or time or influence or anything really,\

but I don’t.

 

I wish I could be someone worth loving

so that maybe I could stop hating myself.

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Fairytales

I wish that fairytales were real

because that would mean that

dreams really do come true

just because you will them too

and patiently wait for them to happen

and everyone gets a happy ending,

even me.

But that’s just not the case.

Love is a sham

and the more you believe in it,

the more you’ll get hurt.

then again, if you don’t believe in love,

the world reveals it’s cold self,

and it’s miserable living there,

but so is living in a constant state

where you believe that any day now

you’re fairytale will come true

and your prince will finally love you.

Go ahead and pick you poison:

reality or an apple.

 

The Perfect Love Story

Someone asked me today

to describe the perfect love story

but the truth is you can’t.

There is no such thing.

Love is messy.

Love is unique.

Love is all over the place.

One story that may speak to me,

may speak differently to you

because we don’t have the same heart.

And the things I have felt

in my 21 years of experience

cannot ever be fully captured in words

no matter how hard I may try.

The truth is love is its own language

and it writes it’s own stories

that are intended for small, intimate audiences

and it’s not up to me to put it into words.

I cannot capture the full meaning

behind a smile’s joy

or certain looks given

or even laughs shared.

I cannot only feel the perfect love story

and hope people can catch a small glimpse

of it through my eyes

as I try to live the story.

Love is not a perfect story to be told.

Love is a life to live to it’s fullest.

 

A Love Poem

I want to write a love poem,

but that requires not only someone to write about,

but someone to love.

And while I’m sure if I took a moment

and gave it some thought,

I could find someone to write a poem about

because it doesn’t take much for me to love someone.

I have a lot of love to share with the world

and if you’re important in my life,

I probably love you.

Family, friends, students.

If I can put your name to your face,

the odds are I love you.\

 

The problem is it takes something more

then just me loving someone

to write a good love poem.

Lovee poems need a certain magic

that only comes from being loved back.

A love poem is not nearly as heartfelt

as when there is a sense of an unbreakable bond.

At this time, the only unconditional love

that meets this condition in my life

is my dog.

And she can’t read sooooooo…

no love poems today.

 

If You Could Have One Thing

“If you could have one thing

in the whole wide world,

what would it be?

Some people will say wealth.

Some people might say happiness.

Some others might say love,

while others want their dreams.

But for me, if I could

have one thing out of the

billions of choices at hand,

I would choose you because

then I could have it all.

My dreams would come true.

I could finally feel love

and experience happiness

that would make me feel

like the wealthiest girl

to ever exist.

But I can’t have you.

It’s just a silly game

and a stupid question.

I can’t have what I want

most of all because

you’d have to want me too.

One-Way Street

I’m tired of being alone,

but I’m also tired of trying.

Why am I the only one?

Why is this a one-way street?

It feels like when I reach out,

people step away from me.

Friends make excuses,

dates cancel plans,

and family tells me to go away.

I’m never enough,

no matter my intentions.

Why aren’t I good enough?

What do I have to do

to get some love around here?

SHouldn’t everyone be loved?

Why am I the exception?