I don't know what this is;
You've gone ballistic.
Right now I'm dodging words,
but who knows what a fist is?
A figment
of my imagination,
creation
of possible scenarios
that I don't want to think about,
bruises forming on my arms
and gazes screaming, "let me out."
I'm not doing this;
I tell this to myself now,
but I forgave you once,
and I'll forgive you if it all plays out
like it does in my nightmares-
blank stares.
I'm hollowing out,
and I'm not about
to tell you how
I feel.
It's surreal.
I don't want to believe it,
but there's a lot I don't want to believe,
my heart on my sleeve,
and you're wiping your nose in it.
That's not why I care.
I care for the times
when the tears aren't there.
I'm only in love with part of you,
the part that seems to be right now;
I love all the parts I've met,
but there's a nagging inside
that doesn't trust you somehow.
I just feels like there's a side of you
that I've only started meeting;
the loving loses meaning
when it comes with painful greetings
with this new side of you.
I'm tired of ending every night
on a sour note.
I want to let it go,
but I can't.
You have so much power over me,
using me,
repeatedly,
because I believe
that I love you,
and I already forgive you
for anything you've yet to do.
It's sickening to know the truth.