Why

A poem would never have done you justice…

So I wrote a hundred love stories based on all the times bravery would have lead to love.

Yet now I stare at my blank screen, drained from life, I wondering why I let so many opportunities pass me by.

And swallowing down that I’m a coward.

My lack of: self confidence and charisma and refinery and just… being interesting in general.

Robbed me of just saying the words out loud.

And now I am too lived, too old, too wasted to do anything but write make beleive as if I have the right to craft happy ending while longing for my own.