Nothing is lonelier than a feeling,
& I’m sick of being the detective of my own thoughts.
None else’ impute helps.
You’re there with all of your love, your attention.
Then you’re not.
Not a fair warning,
but maybe I am as clueless as everyone thinks.
Here I am playing the same broken record.
Sitting here dreaming of the best result.
But desperation never brought promises,
so why will it now?
Yet I keep dreaming on “somehow”
It’s cuz I am easy to access, I am easy to dispose.
Not a challenge, no longer something you chose.
And when the denial fades the loneliness kicks in.
No one was every told, that with desperation we’ll turn gold.