These Days

These days my smiles are little lies

that never can quite reach my eyes;

and no one seems to notice, no one seems to care,

but knowing what I’m worth, I guess disinterest’s fair.

My world of color turns to shades of black and gray,

and I keep on talking though there’s nothing left to say.

I could use a hug, a kiss, a look, a touch,

but I understand how that’s asking too much.

For giving isn’t easy and I hate to take;

I’d rather live with pretenses and smiles that are fake.

It’s not as though my life is hard – just simple and plain;

but living it has turned me into a desert without rain.

I, the loveless wasteland, have a feeling I can’t shake,

that if I vied for suicide there’d be no life to take.

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Filed under Dark poetry, Poetry

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