I fell in love.

In my eyes, you were mystic.

I couldn’t stop thinking and pondering

about how you sleep, eat, or even breathe.

I swear every hour of the day

I was sinking slowly while falling deep

but little did I know it wasn’t meant to be!

I guess it’s all on me,

I always pick the rotten, fallen apple

near the fresh apple tree,

then they blame it all on me.

I can’t help but wonder

how it could have been,

if we put more effort in you and me,

not the illusions of the media that would never be.

If I could hold his little hands,

love the little one, and guide him

more than his father ever could,

would you still be here with me?

But I guess it’s all on me,

I always pick the rotten, fallen apple

near the fresh apple tree.

I can’t help but ponder

why you all leave

when it’s my time of need.

In the end, it is not the leaving that hurts;

it is the knowing that I’ll be left alone.