is it me?

is it me, or just a comforting presenceone that wont look at you wrong, a fear of feeling i may never be more than you wanted me to bea wild feeling, one i cant escape are you a feeling, or true comfortsecurity, safety, and seamless satire who am i, who am i to say i love youis it my body's decision, or my minds?when i see your face, i draw a blankit doesn't feel like love, it feels like comfort who are you, to say you love meam i a feeling, or true lovedo you love me the way i love you,have i left you questioning the comfort as you've left me? will i ever end it,this long, drawn out ending,where i die, you cry, these feelings remainwho are you, reallyi've never felt this care, but is it yours?

This poem is about: 



Live does not have to be a satire, quite the opposite. 
Certain necessary admiration, witout becoming idolized, we all sin...

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