How do you choose between them?
I love you, I hate you.
I hate you for loving me and I hate you for hating me.
You could write a song and I’d sing along
but the words mean nothing,
finally I realize your words mean nothing.
Late night phone calls, bed time stories,
your laugh, your smile through the phone.
All this past doesnt make up the future.
You dont make up my future.
I read so many words that I could use to try,
to try to convince you to come back,
remember, hold on.
But they’re just words.
We can all relate, can’t we?
I could tell you no one will love you better.
Pretentious? Maybe. The truth? Possibly.
They’re wasted words though.
Just a breath of air, coming from my lips.
Just sometimes I think of you. Like when I roll over and you’re not there. Or a stranger’s hand brushes mine. Or a fleeting memory photographed in my mind pops up. Those are the worst. That’s when I can smell you, feel you. It’s crippling really.
But I’m fine.