“do you love me?”
What does it mean when you ask me? How can you not tell?
If you can’t tell that I love you then maybe that’s just as well.
You see I’ve never felt love before, just lust, pain or adoration,
But I know it shouldn’t lie so easy with constant hesitation.
“Do You Love Me!?”
The question pierces my ear but my lips are not sincere
The words don’t roll off my tongue as easy does my eye.
My heart doesn’t beat in rhythm until the time we say goodbye.
I need to breathe, let me breathe. But all I do is sigh.
“DO YOU LOVE ME?!!”
How can you spit wasps at me when all I want to speak is butterflies?
Do you know what love is or is just easier to be cruel than to be kind?
How can I tell you, with tears, with yells, with infidelity? How do I tell you I love you? With lies, broken promises and charity?
“I’ll ASK YOU ONE LAST TIME, IF YOU DON’T ANSWER ME THEN IT’S FINAL.”
Cocked gun at my head, pale blue vision turning scarlet red
“DO.”
It’s small led shaft pointed at my brain, no warmth left.
No time to say I’m sorry just forced words to relieve me of my breath.
“YOU”
Tie a noose to the yew tree and kiss me on the cheek.
It’ll bow down it’s branches and grow new roots. I’ll be ok, escaped to love another day.
“LOVE”
Pull the trigger, I won’t tell. You’ll never know, you can go to hell.
“ME?”**
Yes, of course I do. Why do you even have to ask?