The concept of you scares me.
The thought of you picking at the thing I spent years constructing.
Piece by piece you get closer,
to me,
to what I try so hard to destroy.
Not understanding why I'm so reluctant,
why I, after so long, cannot do it again.

For I do not believe feelings can be mutual
I do not believe one can look at me and feel the way i do,
I do not believe, in certain light
that this concept of love exists.

I believe in wholehearted conversations,
and laughs underneath the gleaming moon.
I believe in strong friendships.
But for this to be everlasting,
for one to crave me as much as I crave them,
that is fictitious.