Our conversations had no context,
I felt comfortable in your arms watching Netflix
And I found myself building it up in my head.
When you spoke to me about your dreams,
You never once asked, what about me?
And I found myself grasping for the dead.
Or was it ever living,
Did your heart ever start giving,
Into the spaces I pushed aside for it.
Now I’m the only one grieving,
Lying to myself into believing,
That you are a hypocrite.
For you never claimed to love me,
Only warned, you weren’t ready,
But I pushed for what I wanted.
So am I allowed to blame you,
For the pain I can’t seem to undo.
Leaving what’s left of my heart haunted.