Why is it that the people we think of first,
are the last to think of us?

When messages are left unresponded to,
yet are seen.
When calls are left un answered,
yet herd.
We are left to deal with these emotions alone.

The little thing's I do not share,
the little things I keep inside.

To hear you sing to your car radio,
to hear your passion,
to watch you drive.
As the lights of the rode caress your face,
I see your eyes flicker to me,
and you make a sidewise smile as you notice my gaze.

I study you,
like I do the **** models I draw for hours on end.
Memorizing every curve,
every dip,
every line.

When you tell me you love me you don't just with your lips,
but with your eyes,
with your body,
with your sole.

I feel as we are intertwined under the covers our sole are somehow combined.
Like hydrogen and oxygen we create life,
like potassium permanganate and glycerol we ignite
like Potassium Chlorate and Sulfur we explode into a show so stunning it lights up the faces of everyone around us.

Your kiss,
when the world is swirling around us and I make myself sick with worry,
you can make it stop.
You hold my face in my hands and keep everything else out,
if just for a second,
we're alone.

When you look at me with the saddest eye to ever grace this Earth,
I do not wonder why you worry,
but I wonder what would ever make you think I would leave,
I could leave.
Yet sometimes I worry the same.

You,
with all of your love.

You,
with all of your flaws.

You sometimes forget how to "relationship,"
but you never forget me.

You,
you hit walls when your angry,
but I will always be here to bandage your wounds.

You,
sometimes can't vocalise everything you mean properly,
but you don't need to,
because I know,
and I feel it too.

You,
run off and get yourself in so much trouble,
but I keep you in line,
and you teach me how to step outside them sometimes.

These little thing I take note of and never share,
I wonder what little things you keep of me.

There are days where I still feel guilt,
for letting my loyalty slip.

For falling,
away from you,
and for him.

These days I look at old photos of us,
and I realize,
I do not love you.
I look and I see someone who cared for me,
who looked after me,
who I spent a year and a half with,
but whom I no longer love.

I know that there was a time where I loved you,
where no one could make me smile quite like you.
No one could make me feel so comfortable,
and no one else occupied my dreams.

We, do not work.

We are too different and you are too controlling.
I would talk about my passions to you and your eyes would glaze over.
I would listen to music with you, but when you sang the words,
there was no fervor.
I would make a joke, and you would be offended.
You would make a joke,
and I would laugh,
even if it wasn't funny.

You would proclaim your love to me in any in every way possible.
In public,
in private,
and I felt secure.
Secure that you would never leave me,
but not that I would never leave you.

You would blame me for all of our problems,
but never out right.
You would make me feel like **** about have a disorder I could not control,
but you would do it with words of love.
You blinded me from all I wanted to accomplish,
cradled me with indifference,
suffocated me with safety.

I slipped,
I fell,
and I could not control it.
When a boy came up to me and fixed my clipped wings,
flew beside me instead of tying me down,
gave me freedom and love and hope.
I fell,
I flew,
I left.