It feels different every time.

Whenever I see you it's different,
I'm always some varying level of
completely bastarding
legless drunk. Usually you are too
but that's life though isn't it?
Like our heartless business arrangement,
that's life too.

It gives me life, and drains me of it.
I still maintain I saved you,
everyone hated your girlfriend.
You have terrible taste in girls,
I'd hate me if I knew me
any better. But right now
I don't know who I am.

Nobody knows me anymore.
I've changed that much,
it's tragic really. To lose myself
to an uproar of useless emotions.
I gave up on love a year or so ago
and now I know what I know
I wouldn't go back on it.

I wonder if you told me you loved me
would I feel anything.
Would I be angry, or cynical
or stay here or leave you
because I'm too much of a mess to ever reciprocate it.
Or maybe love triumphs over expectation.
Over death and trouble and devastation.

We'll never know.