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I call me rebound.
Void filler for the night.
Heart mender when I'm in your sight.
Answer from me is never might.
Company for your tears, mostly at night.
I'm defined as "rebound".
Body warmer, when your feelings are cold.
My feelings subconsciously suppressed, when you're feeling bold.
My actions clearly speak of a rebound.
Closed heart.
Will I be a "good missed opportunities", damaged goods?
I'm suppressed being.
Comfort, when you thought you'd get that early morning call.
Hand to hold when walking through malls.
They call me rebound.
I can only dream of standing tall.
Having what I deserve, like ever lasting love and all the cliches...like walking hand and hand through Lowes picking out colors for our plain white picket fenced walls.
Sad thing about it.
I've become immune to being.
Rebound.
Artificial kisses and generic hugs.
Just someone to surround, your less than warm bed.
Funny how I play part as your tissue.
My shoulders plays as your pillow, but you neglect to see "my human".
Easily forgetting that it's my heart where you try and lie your head.
I'm done being Rebound. If you don't get it, refer back to line 1 to reread what I've said.
M.T.F.D.
Rita S.
