I can lie with the best of them. Unreadable.
My alto never falters; eyes that swear to
the truth, eyes that lie to yours.

(But I despise liars.)

Pessimists depress me;
optimists aggravate me.
Tolerance is found for neither.

(And yet I'm the optimistic pessimist.)

Scoffs fall freely from my mouth, for
I've no respect for cowards. Be strong,
be brave, push through, win. Can't
take the heat? Stay out of my way.

(But I can't meet your eyes, your beautiful eyes.)

Never before have I stuttered.

Girls fall apart over boys, as if the
opposite gender were the source of
the oxygen we breath; the scorning laughs are
mine.

(You are the air I breath. Breathing is impossible without you.)

Quitters quit. No other statement as been
put so bluntly, none said so truly. Quitters
hold no special place in my respect, my heart.

(But I gave in so easily, refused to believe I held your heart. I quit. )
And now I might not, for no longer do you meet my gaze.

I don't regret that.

(Lying's become a habit.)

Crying is weakness. I am not weak. Liquid eyes
are pitiful, and though I am compassionate, and
give my pity, I need none of yours. Do not pity me.

(No one needs to see the saltwater that stains my pillow.)

Patience is not a given; it's a virtue.
One that I am not gifted with.

(Yet I've waited so long, and am still waiting, waiting on your love.)

I hate you, I hate you. Your Cheshire cat grin
annoys, and your dimples look so childish.
Nothing do I hate more than immaturity.
You hold the Olympic medal for that.

(I love you, I love you.)

I am the perfect hypocrite, and we are the perfect hypocrisy.
But will we ever be?

So true, so true and sad. So real...give me your thoughts.

--Paris:]