You might never love me in the way I want you to.  Or the way I need you to.  I like you too much and I know it.  I've gotten over you, but I continue to fall back in intrigue with you at the slightest provocation.

Because I change my mind a million times a day about you.  And at the end of it, I don't believe in you.  But against all good judgment, I recognize all the shadows that move like vertigo through my sleep as yours.  And believe in you again.