Why do you doubt me?
How could you possibly think
That there is anyone else but you?
Even yet in your mix of shock,
Bemusement, and jealousy,
You still try to make me jealous yourself?
I don't think I'll ever quite understand you,
Not now, not ever.
I really wish I could; I try harder and harder each day
But I cannot analyze you day in and day out
Like you're some experiment
Still, I try to figure you out,
Where are you coming from?
Why do you do this to me?
Do you love me at all?
Your mind seems to bear no thought of my emotions
If I found out you loved me, I would not be surprised;
If I found out you hated me, I would be surprised even less.
I guess 'tis only fair,
I never really had the strength or will power
To tell you that I really do love you myself…
Still, I struggle so much using the word,
As if the word love itself signifies shackles and slavery
I hate to think of it as waiting for you, however
I cannot think of a better way for it to be put
It is more like I'm having patience,
Waiting for you to realize what a bad position you're in
Come to your senses, admit to yourself that maybe, just maybe
You do love me too
Love, not in the essence of prisons and shackles,
But the exact opposite, freedom, life, and happiness

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