I notice how often my thoughts and poems start with you , and I resent my weakness .
Just as often as I'm the one to seek you for comfort , how it's me and not you that seems to be tied . For that I resent you for not casting me away properly, for not telling me the keys I hold no longer fit your iron clad locks .
Life has loved laughing at the pitiful gardens I've watered with my tears .
And I feel no greater urge than to rip the weeds from their roots,  because you know well as I that I could never be as beautiful as pink stained petals.
I notice all the ways I would of and still could contort myself to be even half as deserving of you as so many others would be twice as I .
I am a **** and you are a great stone wall I fear I will never scale .