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There it is,

A part of it filled with stuff

the other part stuffed with  false hope,

because it turns out,

I'm not going anywhere.

I guess I knew,

but...

no buts,

Who was I kidding? 

I should have known better,

but I didn't,

so here I am again.

Unlike most people who are probably 

strolling through the city,

holding hands,

eating icecream,

sitting in the parc,

etcetera, how nice does that seem,

I will stay inside today,

and tomorrow.

What does it matter?

There's always next week,

oh no, not next week,

the week after that,

maybe.

Next time

There's always next time,

next time more luck.

The weather outside is great,

so they say.

But here I am,

My door closed,

in thick clothes,

shivering because I'm cold 

till deep inside my soul,

it seems.

I know why,

but I won't bother you with how I feel,

I don't think you'd take me seriously,

I don't think you'd understand,

because you got nothing to do with it.

I'm just making a big deal out of things,

like I always do.

I'm probably just being too sensitive,

My hormones are probably the ones to blame.

Who cares why,

Who cares about how I feel,

about what I want,

about what I need.

Some part of me is still waiting,
how silly.
It's time to unpack my bag,

No...
I'll wait just a little longer,

I'm not ready to do that, 

just yet

even if it looks really sad,

lying there,

since I am not going anywhere.