You know me.

Which, in and of itself, should not be surprising. I told you all my secrets. When I was at my worst, you yelled at me. When I was betrayed, you picked me up.

You know me.

Which, really, when I think about it, scares me. I can't hide from you. You already know what I am thinking. You even know why I am thinking it. Around you, I feel rather exposed.

You know me.

Yet, for some reason, I think you like what you see. That's what boggles my mind. You see much deeper within and still, you aren't recoiling. In fact, you are coming closer.

You know me.

I don't know what do with your affection. It's subtle, because I want it to be subtle. It's consistent, because I need it to be consistent. I don't know what it means, and that keeps me awake at night.

You know me.

And yet still, you come.