friends · grief · Life · loss · love · Poetry · Relationships · Words

Longing for you

goodbye

You are my entire weakness. 

Every time I see you I want you but I know I can never have you. 

You belong to someone else. 

If life were different, another time, another place, we would be soul mates instead of friends. 

I know you feel it too. I see it in the way you look at me, the longing, the sadness.

I hear it in your voice when you say my name.

I wish I could stop feeling this way but my heart is so dedicated to you. 

It skips a beat every time you are near me and a thousand tiny butterflies set flight. 

I desire to know a life with you. 

The taste of your mouth on mine, the feel of your skin against my own, your hand slipping through mine.

We’d spend dark nights concealed by the shadow of the moon and early mornings in the suns balmy rays.

I wish, but when did wishing for something ever make it real?

We will stay familiar as friends.

I will laugh and smile when I see you and feign that I don’t feel a thing. 

And when you leave with her, you will be taking a piece of me with you once again. 

This is the way it must be. 

In this version of time we are not destined to be. 

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friends · grief · Happiness · Life · love · Poetry · Self confidence · Words

Rantings in a Coffee Shop

I’m that person in a busy coffee shop, sitting at the corner table for two that currently seats one. A blur in the lives of the people passing by, placing orders. No one really notices me since they are too busy with their own doings. I sit, listening quietly to conversations, a curious mind I tell myself. What do people talk about ? How are they friends and what qualities am I missing so that I am alone?

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At times it’s satisfying to be by myself, a solo in a world of pairs. Other times I long for an ear, a friend who sits with me in coffee shops in the middle of a rainy afternoon, just to pass the time. We talk about simple things like the weather or our favorite T.V. shows and we laugh about things our kids said.

I sip my coffee, peering above the top of my plastic lid, enjoying the hot brew and the warmth of it in my cupped hands. But deep, deep down I’m cold and coffee doesn’t seem to ever warm me completely.