I laid in your bed, touching your body with the same hands that cursed it hours before
They cursed all men, pointing at the deceit and insecurities I have about myself

They pointed at me, then back at you, then back at me.
A cycle of love and hate, processing and empathy.

The curves of your body made me numb
The vibrations of your pump every hour
The vibrations of your pumping heart every second I could feel it in my hands every time I lingered just a bit too long
My fingers whispering secrets to your skin

As you talked on the phone, worlds away, in your language, I paused
I admired you. Strong not only by the arms I was holding, but by the head I was kissing
Your love for me seemed so great in those 11 hours.

Maybe 10. I'll round up in this case.

2pm and I finally make it back
You text me,

'did you make it back ok?'

It made me smile.
I walked three flights of steps back to my home.

'No, I died'

But part of me had
Friendship had turned to love
Love had turned into resentment
Resentment turned into heartache
They leave they leave they leave. They always leave.
And I sit here, alone
Wondering what I could have done to make you stay.

Maybe I admire the way you treat me as if I'm the only ******* your mind for those 10 hours.
11, I mean.
Maybe I think that the way you soften when I'm near is because of my heart
Maybe it's because I'm young and impulsive
A constant battle between love and hate

Pointing my finger to blame someone, something
Pointing out my flaws
Pointing out the ones who left
Staring in a mirror, I point

Escape is inescapable, pointing is fun
Maybe what I'm looking for is someone to point at me and say 'you're the one'