I don’t want this. I didn’t ask for this.
To only exist when your eyes are on me. Only when your hands are on me.
I hate this feeling, like I become invisible the moment you walk out my front door.
I want more than this. I want you to want me always. Not just two days a week.
I need more than that. I need to know that I’m more than my body, more than what you can touch.
I can’t keep feeling this insignificant, when you’re all I can think about. You’re so much more than you make me feel.
You’re frustration. You’re laughter and the feeling of being high. You’re a drunk mind. You’re a pure heart, but a wounded one.
You’re on my mind 24/7 but I barely cross yours for a minute of the day. I wish you wanted me more than that. I really want more.