I tried showing you, but my actions were overtaken by false hallucinations.
I tried telling you, but my words were claimed as lies.
If only I could haunt your soul.
but you’d just perceive it as false hopes and dreams.
In humiliation…
I express self-pity or doubt,
It’s as though you loathe me.
If I express hate and anger, then suddenly you’re compelled to me.
As though my love is so hard to comprehend.
A freely given Love, taken for granted.
Confused and dismayed.
Lost in translation for what is truth.
Lost in an abyss for what is unknown.
Predisposed my heart and soul.
With declined investments of only heartache and misery.
Heartache and misery, for that’s all I ever know.
About the Creator
Deborah Portillo
Writing from the edges of my imagination, I create stories for the simple pleasure of exploring what lies beneath the surface of ordinary life. Drawing inspiration from long workdays, unexpected dreams, and shadows of my own subconscious.
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By Gregory Paytona day ago in Fiction
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