The conflict, turmoil

storms even, in my heart:

I want you, I hate you

I need you, I'd rather never

look upon your

face

again.

You're indifferent, uncaring

concerned? Was that remorse

I noticed in your words,

or was it just another mask?

And I wonder,

does it

humor

you to know that

you're leading me on again?

You can't control it,

you can't make up your mind.

oh, just let me wait

for you, you've already pushed me

down, (but I got up again

telling myself you were just a waste of time.)

Then

when

you suddenly

decided I was worth it again, I tried to forgive you

chased away the shadows in the dusty

corners of my heart, which threaten to

frost over in bitterness, always,

just to find a place for you, missteps and all.

So,

you

got away with it.

I erased your mistakes.

Start over. What will I get for

wanting to trust you?

Another knife in my back?

Is it so horrible

that I'd like a chance

to talk with you?

(maybe if you could actually see

my face

you'd

listen)