Friday, September 7, 2012

Get out

Questioning my every move
Why is he in my head?
Why was I in his bed?
Why did I let him treat me that way?
Did he ever care?
Was that all in my head?
Make excuses, make excuses
It's not his fault.
I'm just too difficult.
Too odd.
Too afraid to show him how it hurts.
He wouldn't do it if he knew.
He'd never try to hurt me.
Excuses are made before he can even get the chance to disappoint me again.
It's all my fault.
If I said I love you and really tried to be everything he wants...
he'd still not love me.
He'd still not consider me as someone to care about.
I'm not a real person to him.
I'm just flesh to play with.
Then it's time to go.
Why can I see so clearly when others make the mistakes?
Not his.
Not mine.
I'm not his.
He's not mine.
So why is my heart so stupid?
Why do I miss the warmth of his touch?
Why do I want to hear his laugh?
Why don't I hate him?