Sitting here in the dark, being lonely all the time,

Writing words onto paper, trying only to make them rhyme.

Mostly about love and care and you,

And the many things that we could do.

Instead we're doing none of this,

And if you weren't here, then you I'd miss.

No one to write for, no one to love,

Well, at least... not enough.

That was a poor rhyme and that I know,

And I can't be there to love you, so...

It's time I stopped and only cared,

It's time I stopped and was prepared,

For other things that are yet to come,

Like telling my dad and my mum,

That I am bored and that's no lie,

And maybe a tear will exit my eye.

For then it's done and all should be fine,

But still I know, you won't be mine.

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Author guidance for This poem

I was bored one night and just decided to jot down anything that sprang to my mind, so this may reflect my mood so isn't well thought of but is something that I feel is descriptive and tells a little story (kind of).

updated Jun 15 '10 by Littledanno