Will I ever mean enough to you? To write back home to? Or will the same people be receiving your love forever? I must admit I’m jealous. Not extraordinarily, but enough for it to hurt. And sometimes it hurts more than I share. Actually, a lot of the time. Because you don’t know it, but you’re killing me slowly, with your empty promises and lack of interest. I need to come to the realization that the fire is gone, at least to you. Part of me will always feel the fire with you, and I know I should get over that. But it’s so hard.
And there are other days that are better. You kiss my cheek and hold my hand and I feel lucky. But I know this is how I should feel every day, not once in a while. I don’t wake up to “Good morning Beautiful” anymore, and I don’t fall asleep to “Night, Princess”. You know you’re blessed, but with me it hasn’t clicked. You take my love for granted, I just don’t understand it. How could you, while I’m thanking God for you every day? When did this shift happen? Maybe my heart is bigger than yours, or maybe I’m not good enough for you.
Because of you, I doubt myself.