Thinking back I have always been the first to say it.
Longing for that mutual connection.
It evades me.
Acting as my shadow.
Always just out of reach.
Playing life's role as Tantalus.
I'll roll and re roll the thoughts in my head.
Before lighting them up and smoking them down to roaches.
Confirming whether or not it's real.
Then and only then will I dare to say it.
Never expecting a reply.
Always hoping they'll say nothing.
Unfortunately.
They'll always say something.
Typically a lie.
Replying in kind or repeating what I've said back to me.
With all the sincerity of a demon who's been ordered to bring back my soul at any cost.
It leaves me feeling void.
It'd be better if they'd said nothing at all.
To instead leave me at the precipice.
Staring into the sun to blind me in assurance that from then on I'd have nothing to look forward to.
It hurts when I hear them say it.
Why bother?
To placate me?
To salvage what's left of me in thinking it's what I want you to say.
Save your declarations for those of whom you honestly feel.
Leave my words for dead.
Because they'll never mean as much to you as you do to me.
So just leave the "I love you" to hang there in the silent night.
Hold your hapless tongue and go.
My ego needs not your pity.