PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

Fascination is not an invitation to be loved
I've put my happiness and self worth into other people
And for a long time I had held on to convincing myself I was better than that
I deserved more than that; But I knew I was kidding myself
Because upon their leaving it was hard not to think how I must deserve to be left
All I was doing was burying my happiness in a shallow grave because they'll fall fast, and
leave even faster.
I gave them a part of me; they run away with it
I was born to be the fling
As a child my mother would tell me that I was a restless and wild soul. As fascinating that soul
can be to people, they won't keep it once they've caught it
I have never had a set personality so I've never felt that I have truly connected with anyone
I always want to bring out the beauty that I see in people, though in hopes of finding some sort of connection
So I heal others while they are broken like some sort of science experiment
I know though that they'll just rip my bandaid off and toss it away when they dont need me anymore
I am a lust- I am a bandaid. A temporary relief. And once the bruises fade, the vicious circle will continue
I am a cure for boredom, I am the one they think about late at night when they're lonely
I build them up to get torn down

I am a temporary feeling that they'll just forget about in the morning and because of this cycle

nothing really scares me anymore
Loss is inevitable; A comfortable feeling
After all, fascination was never an invitation to be loved