theres a certain point

i think ive reached

where i am rather

disenamoured

with my level of

desperation

and basic

stupidity.

you dont want me.

ok.

i dont want you back.

i have so many options.

and you offer me nothing.

you dont exist.

you dont want

my very being.

it says an awful lot about me

that it even bothers me

to this extent.

ive been wanting a

mirage,

an image,

something so far gone

that it really is all just,

poetic license.

how long is one supposed to wait,

for the proverbial

-or not-

knock on the door?

theres a certain point

where the image dulls.

because you realize that

everything you need

that person to be,

they are not.

and will never ever be.

go fishing.

im off to the races.

or somewhere else.

whatever comes first.

but im done looking out my window.

theres no prince.

not where ive been looking…

onward.