I’ve been telling everyone

I’ve been trying to understand

I cannot even begin to comprehend all of the thoughts that run rampant until 2 am:

I love you.
Or the idea of you, I am unsure.

I hate you.
For what you have done,
I am sure.

I love you.
I would go back to you,
if only you asked.

I hate you.
For who you have become,
I am the only one who asked if
only I could come back.

I love you.
You do not love me.
You will not say it back.

I hate you.
You are the one
You are the one who said
“I love you” first.

I love you.
I am the one to say
“I love you” last.