Broken

I'm broken, we both know this. I'm weak, we both know this. Sometimes I wish you could save me. I wish you could take all my broken pieces and fix me. Then I wish you could save me, distract me, love me, heal me, hold me.

None of this will happen though because of life, because of situations, because of circumstances, because of distance, because of history, because you're there and I'm here, because we had our chance, because we're not mentally healthy, because of fear, because of pain, because I love you and you don't love me like I love you. Because of so many reasons I hate to think about.

Instead I'll sit here and wait for your message overtime even when you don't send one. And I'll lay here crying my eyes out because you're not here and I'm lonely. Because I think I'll die, no, don't worry, I'm not talking physical. I mean mental, spiritual, emotional. I'll wait for a mere word, sentence, message. I'll wait and wait and wait because I'd rather know you haven't left me than try to live without you.

I'm pathetic, I know.
I'm desperate, I know.
I'm hopeless, believe me, I know.
I'm broken, I know.