date night

It’s half past 8 it’s Friday
Their are no dates
I have a million stories but I
Couldn’t tell you one where I been loved
The way I see those in the crowds
Hands tossed inside fingers smiles latched in circles
I am lost alone with empty promises
My hands lost in my face
There is nothing much I could say
Except that I’m home alone

Writing this story on a Friday night .

No ones ever loved me the way they said they did
No ones ever loved me the way I loved them

So who am I ,
An orphan ?

Maybe as I get lost in the crowd alone
Some one will grab my hand
And not let go
Maybe they will love my smile

But for now I write this letter
From an empty pillow
Wondering why