I don’t want my feelings caught up in something that only gives a conditional fuck
I’m too broken to stay open for a longing—-for accusations that i choose to do a wronging;
Yet I can’t accuse
So what is a win if the best part of me constantly lose?
What is love if you can’t let go?
What is love if you can’t trust enough to know?
What is love if you need to take a friends advice—it having more weight to the present meaning than just taking a chance with life?
What is , the point?
I can’t pen it
So I won’t begin it
I could never be a whole me with someone who just gives part to see
A guessing with hope to be
But yet you’ll never be,
—okay no, it’s just me!
And that’s tough
As I continue to go I’ll give my best wishes to luck
——when two tears actually tried to give a fuck