Leaning on this airport's walls looking at you talking are the times I wish to be an artist.
Staring at your face, your subtle freckles, and your brown eyes
Make me want to paint you and keep you only for my site,
So I can look at you every time I'm missing you.
I thought it would be like the others but look at me now, yearning for your touch.
Not only about sex, but your fingers slipping through my hair, caressing my bare skin while you whisper sweet nothings into my ear.
Now not only smoke, you too have become my vice.
Yet you don't know this.
You don't know my feeling and how much I desire you.
You don't know how I stay by my phone waiting on you to text
and how my heart breaks when you neglect.
You don't know how sorrowful it is to wait in line for a piece of your time
When I'd give you all of mine.
You don't know any of that,
and you don't have to.
In this story, I'm the one to blame.
No one told me to fall in love. In fact, I was warned not to.
But how could I know one day I'd wake up feeling more?
Hence, I just swallow my feeling and keep them locked deep inside my heart
so you never find out how happy I am with you
and how sad you make me feel.
I'll just keep dreaming of us,
dreaming someday you'd see me as something more.
I'll just keep dreaming until the day you decide to erase me
and I'll have to force myself to bury this deep within.
Or maybe I should just force myself off this floor I fell on and walk away before you do,
leaving me behind with a shattered heart.
But before that I just wish for one more night in your arms,
pretending I'm yours and you are mine.
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