I Hate The Pain

I hate the pain.

When you lie to my dark brown eyes,

I impatiently wait for the next lie.

Maybe it'll ease my restless thoughts.

When you whisper in my ear, 

"it's your fault. Again."

Maybe it is my fault, it always is.

Again, I hate the pain.

When you look at her; 

Watching,

Observing her in ways you never look at me.

Maybe I'm not much to look at, I never have been.

When did I become the opposite of what you want?

Of what you once needed?

I know this isn't love.

I hate the pain.

Knowing, aware, that love shouldn't require constant doubt;

it isn't hoping he'll look at you if you dress provocatively.

It isn't hoping he won't lie to your naive brown eyes.

It isn't hoping the pain will fade the moment he looks,

observes,

those beautiful-innocent eyes.

Light reflecting on the pond; pure.

The light breeze at  sunset; serene.

Colored vases with daisies; simple.

Maybe this is what love is.

Simple; ordinary pleasures.

Maybe it's watching the light reflecting off the pond water

onto my radiant smile as someone new holds my hand.

Maybe it's feeling the breeze of the late fall weather as the sun sets;

unaware of time, present or past. 

Maybe it's receiving a lightly tinted vase with a daisy.

A simple of gesture.

This is what love is.

I don't feel the pain anymore.

He doesn't lie to my big brown eyes,

nor look at everyone else but me;

Maybe I always did exist

Maybe it just took the right person,

the person who would ease my restless thoughts,

countless insecurities, and help me

realize it was never my fault.

I've always been something to look at. 

I've always been more than what some peopled deserved to have.

Love is confidence

and finally

the pain is vanquished from my timid soul.

I hated the pain.