Poetry

Just full of “Maybe” and always a yet…

Maybe I don’t know what love is

Or maybe people are the ones that don’t know.

 

I just want to love someone and be loved back but

yet I don’t focus in what I’m feeling

but just on their being in the majority of the time…

 

Maybe I’ll never know what love is.

Nor the feeling of it like the first time

that I experienced it.

 

Yet if I wasn’t so loud and obnoxious and weird,

Maybe I could build an actual connection.

 

I know I’m a good person, in soul and in  mind

yet sometimes I actually question

those things from time to time.

 

Maybe everything was all in my mind

yet I don’t know or have the guts to admit

that if it was the truth or just a lie.

 

Because I’ll always be that maybe, sometimes a definitely,

sometimes a why not?, definitely a no at times,

but yet I’ll  never be “the one”…

Because I’ll never be called “the one” without it being a lie.

Yet at  least not in this lifetime regardless of how much I do try.

 

Yet if my version of love wasn’t twisted and distorted

from people that don’t deserve to be loved

or don’t know what real love is themselves, and real dedication.

At least I could have a little self respect and self value

inside my mind.

 

Maybe I don’t deserve to be loved and that’s fine by me,

But I at least I would liked to experience the same effort

that I gave in into people…

That were, probably and most likely not worth my pain and unease.

 

There will always be a maybe and a yet in my life

and I know I shouldn’t blame myself at all.

But yet I would like to feel at ease with these thoughts,

and let them fly away freely and not be in a cage just like a canary bird…

 

“And yet I know I deserve better and I deserve more and…

maybe, just maybe I will deserve real love…”

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