You say you want to be,
more,
than friends.

But when I reject your advances,
and you want nothing to do with me.
I know the truth.
You don't want,
more.

If you did,
you would be happy to have a little,
less,
of me in your life.
You would not villainize me,
pouting like a toddler,
who was told they couldn't have candy.
Friends may not be everything you dreamed of,
but it should mean something.

You really think,
less,
of me than you do your friends.