Roughly written.
Barely smitten.
Bitterly spitten.
Quietly bitten.
I'm so unheard,
But I don't say a word;
I just simply observe,
Fearful that I'll rudely disturb.
When night moves to day,
"I'm so sad" turns into "I'm okay,"
And the thoughts of you will fade away,
So I smile to myself and walk away.
Maybe one day your writing will soften in growth,
Maybe then the amount of love you have will start to show.
Maybe then the spit you cast will have less sour flavor as you go.
Maybe then your bite will echo louder than before.