On the Brink of a Forfeit

At what point do I strike a balance and say that loving you without reciprocation is enough? It makes me feel weak, like an idiot child, and you placate me with expensive gifts when all I want is your undivided love and attention. A better choice might be to let you go, and as a man of short to no response you might not notice I’m even gone. You fill voids with girls and gadgets and I am left shaking at the thought of either lounging in your bed with their new fresh smells and soft buttons. I feel old, which is ironic, I feel old and tired and I think you look at me in the same contexts. I listen to love songs that beg for companions to hold on to a bond, to a love that hangs in a delicate balance and I beg in the same contexts. But you don’t want to hear my begging or my fits, you want smiles and something a little less tortured, when its you who has left me in this twisted tortured state. I want for the happiness we deserve, I want for the happiness we had before your ghosts scared you from your future.

The things I've written about you paint us in shadow but I continue to fight for light. My heart wipes the lies from my mind and I am left in a whirl pool of love/like. Your continuous shock and amazement at my forwardness regarding my feelings has become annoying really, and while I sit to write something nice, something bursting with hope, I let out the real feelings of complacency. Why have I let you become my everything, while you teeter between lust and regret?