how is it possible
I only write about
the same four people
when everyone around me
is so intriguing?
I wish I could write as much
as I write about 
the kiss you never gave me
about things like spring
or my favorite song
or England
but then all of those little strings
are connected to a major vessel
which always
ends up in the same heart

I wished something
caught my attention a bit more
became a little bit more relevant every day
I swear I try; it just never applies

maybe I'm dead inside