I sit here alone, just waiting by the phone,
I'm feeling so sad, so frustrated and low.
My friends tell me to just to let it go,
but they don't understand, they just don't know.
My mind is so tired, my eyes a red haze,
I can't sleep at night, and I can't enjoy my days.
Your face haunts my dreams, whenever I turn out the light,
what an intoxicating effect the sight of you makes.
Was I just a game?
Was this all just for fun?
Don't tell me what we had, was a joke for your sake.
Was I simply a toy - your next heartbreak?
Just something to look back and laugh at as another mistake.
Did my feelings matter, my feelings that I shared with you.
'Those days meant something, and I feel no regrets',
The words you spoke - keep coming back to my head.
That's what you said - and in my heart I know,
that I had misread us -
it was all a show.
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Comments about this poem (Doubts by Brandon Shutter )
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(1 February 1902 – 22 May 1967)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)
Edgar Allan Poe
(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849)
(16 August 1920 – 9 March 1994)
James Russell Lowell
(22 February 1819 – 12 August 1891)
William Carlos Williams
(17 September 1883 – 4 March 1963)
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