It’s All You Got
How can it be, that a bug can whine about not being satisfied, after dodging all of a lady’s questions and pleas?
There’s an emptiness in me, as I’ve mentioned.
How can it be that it expects grand words directed its way when nothing like that is directed to this lady?
Just a way to start an argument, maybe? To give her that excitement she’s been looking for?
No need, if it’s just going to be that hot anger you’ve made me come to associate with your leash. It binds my melting hand to your throat — but you hate that, huh?
How about then, a chain on your wrist. I had originally written two chains, but you’d suffer that way, huh.
That thought crossed my mind — “do I want you to suffer?” — No, not really.
All I want is for you to feel the way I do about you.
There’s no mentions of me in your future, ever, anymore, huh? Even though I’d told you so many things that night you decided to flee.
Would snow not like grass to peak through it? Does white not want to be pressed into by bloodied hands, an imprint left of a dull red?
I just wish it felt like I knew you. I know you care. I just wish it felt like you loved, too.