today i feel unwanted
you'd think by now i wouldn't,
but i do.

when we are alone,
you never kiss me first.

that breaks my heart
over and over and over again.
every single day.

in front of our friends,
you lean in, smile,
wrap your arms around me.
but once they've gone away
and we're in your room
or mine, it always has to be me.

you will not place your hands or lips
anywhere on my body
until i've begged you
or begun it all myself.

i don't think you realize what that does -
how utterly unlovable that makes me.
some days i'm too tired to even try.

can you even tell me why?
i know it was hard for you, finding out
the things that have been done to me.
but i've sworn a thousand times
that you aren't like they were.

but slowly, you are becoming something worse:
the one who breaks my heart
because i dared to fall in love with you.

am i just not enough? am i
too dirty, too used, that girl who got
thrown into the world too young and never
got the fuck over it, never fixed herself,
never learned to see the difference between
love and sadism? am i just too much, too little,
too tired/sad/lonely? too many times,
too many people, too many mistakes?

deep down inside, i know you blame me
for what happened. maybe you don't see it
or maybe you don't realize that i see it,
but you do. it was in your eyes the day we passed him
on washington boulevard, when he
screamed out the window at us.
it was there in the way you wouldn't hold my hand.
i feel it on the days you don't want to touch me,
won't let me touch you. it poisoned your words
on my birthday, your kiss the day we quit,
the way you looked at me the night i finally told you.

and that is so hard for me to know; you can
never understand how fucking hard it is
to have to accept that as fact. and maybe
you were right, that night when you almost left
and i burned myself out crying for you.
maybe we can't work. maybe we can't make it.

maybe i'm just a masochist. because all i know is
even though your blame is my worst nightmare
come to life, even though my fear of being not good enough
is fed by your inability to stop hating me that little bit,
i can't stop loving you. i can't stop loving you.

can't stop trying to see us through this,
calling it a rough patch or a hard few days or
just another fight, something we can fix.

i tried and i tried and i tried
because i know that i would be better off
with someone who would just hold me
when i walk through the front door and burst into tears
instead of hanging arms at sides, at a loss for words.
but i just can't.

i just can't.