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.