Showing Me the Door

I told you I love you. 

Everything you do, the way you act, tells me you don’t believe a word I said.
I try to ignore the tight feeling in my stomach,
I try my best to stop imagining a life without you.

In bed you sleep facing the wall;
you cringe at my touch, not interested. 
I ask about you, your day, work, joys, fears, what’s bothering you.
Aloof answers: nothing. 

“Then what is wrong?”
I’m still trying to figure that out.

I really don't know why I make time for you.
I'm always trying to guess what’s bothering you,
what’s making you so aloof and distant.
You post stuff on Facebook – you’re feeling sad, depressed, confused.
I tweet and Facebook, graffiti my wall how much I love you.
You don’t comment, or like my posts.

I'm not sure if I’m anywhere on your romantic radar.
Love is about the other person, their happiness. That’s what I try to do.
You don’t let me inside the walls you’ve built for yourself
Not because you can’t, but because you want to.
It's you blocking me.
It's not me trying to hide something from you,
But you end up mad with me.

What's the point of us loving, being together?
I love you. You? I don’t know.
But I end saying I’m sorry, for what I don’t know
While you say nothing. You're you, I'm me.

We don't really patch up the feather, and then we were there,
You breathing pepper, throwing me out the door,

Telling me never to come back again. 


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