Who Really Knows Poem by Shelby Burnside

thoughts.
drifting through my head, making me stop and stare into the air wanting an answer.
this is what you do to me.
this is how it works.
i dont know what i want in life,
except strong arms around me and someone who can take a joke,
not just make one.
someone who will tease me,
but know exactly when to stop-
and tell me that i'm beautiful and that im exactly what he needs.
you may find these high expectations.
so apparently throwing away dreams and getting hurt is the correct way to go?
well i never was a very good direction follower,
who knew?
the things you do make me wonder.
they make me think.
they make me ponder all the words you've ever said.
and i pick apart our conversations looking for a hitch.
when will i stop doing this?
or are we just not
'meant to be'.
but is that really a thing.
is there an actual person thats perfect for you?
or just a person who you can handle for the time being,
just to get hurt in the end.
making it seen you were in love,
but who really knows?
no one.
is this the way it goes?
is this the way its suppose to be?
who really knows?