lonely friendships

what are friendships if not uneven?/ why are the closest always the furthest away?/ the simplicity of connection is overruled for greed/ you want to leave, so i beg you to stay

loneliness is being the third person there/ it’s sitting alone, surrounded by people/ second-guessing your role in the conversation/ telling yourself the quiet is more peaceful

i offer too much that i don’t want to give away/ i extend my hand for the sake of niceties/ you take it too far and won’t let me go/ i make myself bitter in an attempt to please

i have no tangible evidence for any of this/ i’m perfect on paper, i’m well aware/ i have it all, what else could i need?/ but when i look around, there’s no one else there

no talking

Dependent I’ve become/ after months and months of talking/ and now all i recieve is silence/ i wish it wasn’t so shocking

Yet i don’t want to move first/ worried of forced conversation/ so i sit in my bedroom/ all my songs, one long duration

So, update. I’m realizing I suck at poems and it’s kind of killing me because nothing seems decent when I write it and all my “decent” ones are just about inanimate objects. What does that say about me? Can I not write? Do I force myself to write too much? Just because I can rhyme doesn’t mean I can just build stanzas that have any depth. Yet, I keep checking my snap and there’s nothing new from anybody and I can only hope that writing passes the time because the night is long. -me, cosmo susie