For you,
the person I've adored.
From me,
the one you've probably abhorred.

I want to apologize.
I'm sorry for liking you.
You would never like me like that,
and I knew that too.

So I'm sorry,
for the late nights
and the early mornings.
Things could have gone different,
I thought they might.

Simply put,
I thought the idea of "us" was great.
But somewhere in me,
I knew you couldn't relate.

So I'll write this,
for You.
To the one who will never see this.
But the one I most want to, too.

So this,
is from Me.
My endearment was true.
And you know,
I think I'll keep falling for you too.
From Me,
For You.

My scabs
were mine to pick at,
but you rolled up my sleeve
and tore them off.

And now,
they're bleeding all over again.

"You're always so happy!"
Every time you say that it gets harder
to distract
myself from the fact
it's all just an act

I craved your attention,
but you weren't too eager.
No one else's will work for me,
I'm too much of a picky eater.

I wanted to need you,
and I wanted you to need me too.
But now I wonder why,
your parasitism is making me ill
as I die.

You're killing me off.

You wanted a friend.
And I wanted to apologize
for wanting more.

If I showed you
the true feelings
you've always begged me to share,
the hate,
and anger,
and frustration,
and sadness.
Would you still be here,
begging me to talk?
Or would you be begging me to stop?