I told myself I'll be moving on,
I know I should be moving on,
But I hate the fact that in every moment,
A part of my heart you've stolen.

And now it's missing its pieces
Broken, almost battered against the floor
Because my heart that misses
Is what tethers me to you, for more.

Often times I cant discern,
Whether I want it or need it,
And all those times, bring concern
Because I know love is what I'm seeing

Though I do not know,
The feelings that I own,
And if what I feel
May truly be decieving

Platonic? Could be.
Romantic? Just maybe.
And for some reason.
My feelings change just like the season