I don’t feel loved, and it should be no surprise.
They say that a person can hide sorrow except in one place, the eyes.
It’s not that people don’t love me; some people love me, they do.
It’s just I wish the people around me knew.
I see them hanging out with others which is fine, and I shouldn’t mind.
I wish that I was invited to hang out with them sometime.
I wish that I felt like a priority in their life,
If their world was crumbling, I’d be a part of it that would survive.
I’m selfish, I know it; I cannot hide that any longer,
The sadness I experience when I am alone only go and gets stronger.
I wish I had that person who wouldn’t mind texting me when they were free,
Someone who wouldn’t leave me grey-ticked till they remembered me.
This poem… it’s not a plea or a cry out for help.
It’s just me exposing a rather sad part of myself.
I’m selfish, I know it, and I won’t deny it anymore.
I crave a dream of being prioritised by someone like never before.