I like you, but I don't. I want to, but I won't.
My fucks—the amount I give, you can't count.
I'm alright when I'm sad. I hate it when I'm mad.
Do you understand? You were not a part of my plan.
I love you, but I can't. That is not what I want.
Tell me, “it's okay.” Such easy words to say.
If okay was just fine, then simply, you'd be mine.
If feeling was a crime, I'd be glad to serve time.
How are you? I'm fine. You're not. Get in line.
Dead inside? Gotta be. Yet, my heart decrees.
It likes you, but I don't. It wants you, but I won't.
You exist before me, in all your glory. Yet another confusion to my life's story.
BEAR
YOU ARE READING
Broken Lens
PuisiThe words of an individual that sees the world through a different angle, a broken lens.
