You are my favorite shade of everything always.
And I really don't know what that means to you.
Because you cried when you said you loved me, first,
And now you don't even notice me. Or when you do, there is nothing.
I don't know if you hate me. Or if you feel anything at all.
All I know is I miss you every day, even when I don't think I have.
And when I don't let you enter my thoughts, you show up in my dreams.
People say if you can't sleep at night, you're in someone else's dream.
You must be an insomniac. But probably not because of me.
Because I don't count to you in any standard of everyday living, everyday thought.
I don't count and I can't ******* wrap my hands or my head or my heart around that.
Because you are everything and everywhere to me.
And no matter how many boys let me fall for them, only to pull away the rug,
I always, always, always, always, always hurt for you. And for you alone.
I hate every ******* color inside your soul, yet you're still my favorite shade.
I don't know what that means.
I love you. I hate you.
You are everything to me.
And I am nothing to you.
And that ******* hurts.