It grips me tight
But I try to hide it
Like a parasitic vine grown from what was thought to be mere anxiety wrapping itself around my body
I am ashamed of it
I feel as if I am a monster admitting to a lover that I am cursed
But they are too caught in their dream version of me to truly care about it and the effects it has on me

April is a humiliating joke to me
The rain that supposedly comes to water the flowers
Is better represented by the amount of tears shed this month

I think too many people punish others for their words
Without thinking about why they were said

Have I truly wasted so many chances?
Have I questioned you so much that I deserve your hate?
All I had asked for was a less apathetic reminder that maybe dreams do come true
Instead I've received an impossible question as to what the root of the problem is
A repeat
Am I as bad as you both suggest
Or do I simply have bad taste

I wonder if youd be the type
The type to appreciate the little things I do
The words I write out in dedication
The images in my head I bring to life with brushes
The type to remember that I am more than the foolish words I speak aloud
It seems you arent
Yet still i hope you could be
Cause I wont be going anywhere
Anytime soon

There are days when every move she makes is laced with anger
Days when a potential lover cannot make time to accomodate growing feelings
Days when I cannot differentiate disinterest and stress
Bad days filled with friction and fighting
A wish that I could run away from it all
But suffocated by millions of thoughts as to what I should do
And confusion as to what the problem really is

I think I'd like to just sit
In the gray of what's past
My eyes see it as awry and colorless
But I can still taste the memory
Feel it on my skin
I can hear laughter
Gentle whispers
And smell the scent of a desire incomparable to that of any prior or future
That isnt to say that the connections that have or will exist couldnt be better
But instead that they each have a unique aroma
Still
I'd like to sit
watching the gray
As this lingering scent
Slowly dissipates