I’m scared you’ll realize
that you don’t love me enough
to make a happy life
I’m scared you won’t want to call
Alone is what I said I wanted to be,
and I’ll serve my time beside that stupid, stupid wish
What do I know about what’s good for me,
when all I can deduce is what I think I want?
For what a person wants is rarely what they need
I haven’t hurt like this in a long, long time;
not since I met you, in fact
Why did you slowly stop going out of your way?
Why did it feel like what you felt was lessened?
What, in the name of nothing, have I done?
I awoke without you here to resent
for being so great to me, yet asking so little in return
This is my deserted eternity, and you are not to blame
So excuse me, but I have to be going
There is an oncoming cry, paralyzing me
Always love, I’m always missing
No more Mrs. to talk my heart home
Poetry from Emotional Mythologies by Shane Windham
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