by Desirae Costigan
Maybe if I was better for you. If I could bat my eyelashes and stare into your eyes deceitfully I would have you tagging in my wake. Maybe if I gave false hope to fill up the void in your heart till you were overflowing, spilling in at the seams. If I could crack that million dollar smile or pout my lips softly, I could keep your love. But, my dear, for you I cannot flutter my lashes, for I have trouble in the seconds we don’t share a gaze. False hope has never meant much in my reality, and I know oh so well that it will not fill a hole for long without spilling and seeping through the cracks. My love, my smile is far from perfection but it bares my tongue, that is where my words are forged. And if I were to pout, tell me, would the innocence portrayed be real? If I am not enough for you, then at least I have offered all that I know.