you drop a bombshell on me that you might love me again
again, you never stopped, you're unsure
but you gave me hope
that delicious, foolish hope that I gobbled up
because how could I not?
I thought I'd see you again the next day,
so we might talk and continue that conversation,
yet you weren't there.
an unforeseen illness, by unfortunate luck
put you out for a week,
leaving me to ponder and unravel this rewoven thread of emotions
I concede that it is not your fault for this timing
but it is always poor timing-
a rushed confession,
a stretched break up,
an admission before illness-
it is always like this.
you do not mean to toy with my heart
and you do not have malicious intent
yet, with your volatility you do so anways
confusion clouds both our judgements
of our relationship to each other:
you of your own identity and feelings,
and mine with having the ability to maintain
my confidence, in your truth,
whatever that may be...
because you say you like me,
but then you leave me
you say that you never had any feelings,
but now you do.
it's a cycle of back and forths of confusion
where I cannot trust your feelings for me
and that hurts
because I love you,
whether we are friends or more
I will always care for you
and it hurts
because I do not know what to do with myself
because it's just all so confusing