Did she love me?

Spoken Word Scrolls

I thought she loved me.
Did I deserve to put her feelings above me?
I mean, if I cried; would she hug me?
I thought she loved me.
When she looks and says nothing, it bugs me.
To the point of which, I feel like flipping out and screaming ’til my lungs bleed:
Does she love me?!
It’s like as soon as she planted that seed, I lost my tranquility.
And she didn’t even get to bear the fruit.
She left and got to toot her fruit with the loot that she apprehended.
And now I’m sat here pretending, like I’m ok.
I feel offended.
Regretting the happiness that’s now suspended.
Did she love me?
Obviously not with how it all ended. The lens of blame is on her.
That’s how I prefer; to frame it.
I got framed in it.
I got consumed and wild; there was no taming it.
I’m a victim of love; there’s no shame in it.
She was merely a dame with no desire to contain the love I felt inclined to project.
Now I’m offset.
I won’t fret.
Time’s a great healer I bet.
I’ll feel better by the end of this text… Love.
Venting.
Vexed.
On to the next…
Chapter… Love.
Clasp your hands this’ll lack laughter; it only gets harder.
Peel back the plaster; it’s sore.
I’m cut deep.
Emotion continues to seep.
I’m incomplete.
I’m waning in defeat.
Head giddy, mouth dry; better take a seat.
To be prudent whilst in love- what a feat.
She seemed it though.
She seemed to flow… Through and beyond me.
Hold on:
Did she love me…

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