Sanguineness
I want the real you. The one who isn’t afraid to speak her mind. Who was shy, but willing to explore. The confident you. The one who went after what she wanted no matter what. I miss the real you. Late night conversation, though you did most of the talking as I would stare into your eyes, Thinking “how beautiful”. I didn’t fall in love with the new you. The you who hides behind a bottle. Who seems to have lost her passion. Her edge. Feeling everything but expressing nothing, having a thousand thoughts, but has become silent. I don’t know this you. It scares me. It seems as if you’re spiraling. But Im not sure how to save you. Feeling neglect. Unsure if you feel the same any more. Have I ruined you? Have you grown numb to me? Longing for your touch. Rejecting me, leaving me only to seek release. But none compare, so hope is all I have… Hope is expectation, ...
