It is hard to accept that you refuse to give me a chance. How can you know that you won't like me. I know we live in a world of pseudo-women with everything fake from top to bottom but I don't want to join them. Just for a minute, I want to be liked for who I am. Me.
I'm smart and I'm funny, and I won't desert you like the others. I am the one who will be there. I'm the one who will give you my shoulder to cry on and wipe every tear. But you don't see. You can't see.
Every time I see you, it reopens the gaping wound in my heart, but I won't give up. I'll still be here. Waiting. Waiting to pick up the pieces when she breaks your heart again. Hoping against all hope that you'll finally see what's been in front of you this whole time.