Because that’s all I will ever be to you, an afterthought,
a passing memory perpetually in retrospection.
Because you see no purpose for my humor,
for my interests, for my happiness.
Because you have no patience for my candor,
for my strength, for my opinions.
Because you view challenge as hostile threat.
Because you know not of the damage you cause.
Because to know is to care, and you can only pretend to.
Because your volatility is not towards me, but the world.
Because my unwavering affection cheapens my appeal.
Because my unconditional admiration translates as an exploitable blind spot.
Because your actions will always reveal what I yearn to ignore,
in exchange for your touch.
Because you will never,
have never,
can never,
feel the same way.

How do I know you so well, and yet to you I stay a stranger

Why are you one who I cannot beguile, the only one to make me feel less than enchanting?
Why does this haunt me, motivate me, petrify and puzzle me?
Why will you never see my intrinsic value?
Why do I keep waiting for you to?
Why are your gemstone complements, rarer than diamonds, never more than skin deep?
Why am I always and only an option when you are bored?
Why do I eagerly accept this role as meaningful?
Why are your patterns so easy to predict, and yet impossible to accept?
Why do you say such hollow words that sound so heavy?
Why do I ignore the cyclical misery of a pretty lie?


-Because I Already Know Why