with a wanton disregard for myself.
All I think of is you,
whoever you are, wherever you are.
I know you are out there somewhere,
just waiting for me to discover.
Is it a fools errand,
to believe that the perfect person could possibly be?
Am I kidding myself?
Have I already thrown away "as good as it gets?"
How can I know if you even exist?
Or am I doomed to failed relationship
after failed relationship,
holding out for the perfect one that isn't there?
Until I find you I will wander,
like a drifter without a home,
and you on the back of my mind
as a hopeful memory of what could be.
1 comment:
"I float, endlessly"
That should have been the name of my blog. I feel you.
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