I say I wont call but i do. I worry you won’t pick up, and when you do i wish you hadn’t.
I must love pain, confusion, and the randomness that is my indecision. If not, why do i keep calling? Why do I say I won’t call you anymore and then dial your number five minutes later? Why I can’t I stay well away, preserving my dignity? Which at this stage I don’t have any left.
I know you think I am pitiful. But all i want is for you to tell me that you don’t feel me the way I feel you. Are your actions meant to convey the answer? Well, I want you to tell me to my ear that “I AM NOT JUST THAT INTO YOU”. Please tell me and release me from this hell. I will keep pushing until you tell me. For I can’t do actions. Specifically, I can’t do YOUR ACTIONS.
Your Actions leave way too many gates to dreams open; pave paths for fantasies and hallucinations to travel bound and yoked by shared sibling-hood of illusions. Your actions blurs the distinctions between the boundaries of realities. My reality.
I am saying … I make too much of your actions because you are a man of few words. Hence my need for you to proclaim “I AM JUST NOT THAT INTO YOU”.
Trust me, I can take it. Long and hard, just like i accepted your manhood into the wet warmness of my valleys. I can take your rejection of my love.
