Love is slowly creeping into the depths of my heart, like a soft whisper in the wind.
It's a feeling that's hard to ignore. She is the one that's making me vulnerable, the one that puts a smile on my face.
There is something different, something special about her.
I give her all my attention, checking up on her, from texting to calling, making sure that she knows that I'm always there for her.
As I browse the internet, I search for ways to show her how much I care.
I stumbled upon an article. It talks about being vulnerable. It talks about letting her in.
I'm thinking to myself, "I can do that."
I opened up my journal and read out loud a story I had written, expressing how much I cared. She smiled, she loved it. My heart was filled with joy.
Videos of moments shared, imbued with the essence of love, sent with the fervent desire that she will perceive their true worth.
The depth of the day, its significance profound, In every frame and second, and my emotions, unbridled, are laid bare.
"She's different," my heart insists.
Her time dwindles, like sand in a glass, A sense of distance is felt between us.
Am I imagining it? I ask myself. She is beginning to have less and less time for me.
"You want to hang out?" I would ask.
"Nah, I can't, I'm busy," she would reply.
"Shall we share a call?" I would ask.
"Nah, I can't, I'm busy," she would say.
Her voice's absence leaves me sore, Not out of need, just a wish to connect.
I'm just trying to make it work.
Am I doing too much?
In my solitude, I wander the internet's domain, Seeking wisdom to soothe my heart's pain,
Why do I feel distance between us?
Why is she always busy?
Why is it so confusing?
Why is this not easy?
Love endures, of this I am certain, Yet a mystery persists, causing sorrow, Hidden between the pages.
I ponder and wander.
Insecurities blossom in the emptiness of separation, A yearning sensation, a heartbreak to ingest.
For love may falter under time's merciless grip, Leaving inquiries unaddressed, and sentiments to grasp.
Comments