The Wolves Howling In My Head

Caring

Yes, I love you.
Yes, I care about you.
Yes, I want the best for you.
No, we aren't friends.
If we were friends you wouldn't be mad at me for caring.

Yes, you're hurting.
Yes, you're irritable.
No, I don't want to let you suffer.
If I let you suffer then I'd be going against my own care for you.

Yes, I want to be yours.
Yes, I would do anything to be yours.
No, it's not the root to all my motives.
If it were the root to all my motives I'd still be calling you pet names and trying to make you love me.

I recognize that we aren't together. I stopped using the names all together. But I do still love you, and that's why I care about you.

I wish I could say we were even still friends, but you only contact me when you want something. And if I contact you first you get irritated as if every little thing is to attack you even if I'm attacking myself.

I say I want to care for you, I mean it in any way possible, lover, boyfriend, friend, or just as a stranger to another stranger.

I want you happy, even if it's without me, and it's simply because I care about the girl I used to be friends with.

Only because I care.