To like is consuming,
If not so, then what am I doing?
Past chats, I have memory-
Fragments of conversations,
And unmet desires.
How they do tire.
I threw myself at ****,
to get no reply.
I try again, this time, seeking attention
to get no reply.
I try again, this time, provoking for reaction.
and I get a reply.
Known as “exasperation”.
And I think,
how selfish it is to like.
To need a response,
to measure silence,
to hunger for anothers attention,
and call it affection.
(I mean, don’t make fun of this lol,
I originally wasn’t planning to publish this, but since I’m trying to get my xp count higher, I’m just spamming poems lol
And no, do not ask who “****” is
Oh and also, before you ask, this was published at like 2AM because on this fateful day. Cappachino (the author) was seeeing if he could spend the night without sleeping.
)