Desolate

Desolate


Unheard sighs and tearful eyes.
And turned faces names and taps and as sweet as I can pleads can't turn.
Chatters and laughter and none I can hear. None meant for me. 

So I lend out some hugs. 
Maybe because they need it or I need it or I want to say 'hey, I still care'.
And in return hate myself a little less and maybe wish that they'd been meant for me.

Trembling lips and coughs,
And eyes shut as everyone's are. Wishing that I couldn't see me. 
That I didn't have to listen as no one else does because I swear to you I hate me too. 

Saddened paces. 
I follow feeling stupid and pathetic, hoping maybe I'll offer some comfort, cheer someone up.
But I don't, I'm a pain, maybe that's why there are no footsteps following me. 

Acting and feeling pathetic.
And I know I am, believe me I'm not asking for sympathy, i'm not acting out some stupid drama, i don't want attention.
I just hoped that I could feel less alone.

Unanswered messages and sentences.
Sending loves yous every day that never return. Wishing for talks.
Sometimes even running them threw in my head, making up what we'd say, the topics we'd talk about.

Yelling behind a stitched shut mouth.
Invisible tears splattering down blank walls and I ask 'you okay?' and hope that you are.
And hope that I am too without the opportunity to tell you. 

Stomach churns at every sad face you pull and I engulf you in my arms and check that your fine wish and try to make you better.
Tears fall from my eyes and wrap my arms around myself and wish that I wasn't so weak and ridiculous.

And I talk hatefully at myself because there's no one talking to me.
Let out emotions in the new ways I've learnt how without talking talking them through. I'd never been good at that anyway.
And bite down on my thumbs and hands and scratch for unscarable pain. 

I'm nothing and I can see it myself. 
I hate me.
But I promise that I will always and with all my heart and all I have love you.