i look around. but my eyes are closed. because i am afraid of your face. please, let me ask you a question. let me ask you. your eyes might not be as blue as i thought, but they are sure not black. i remember the irony of those. i thought they’d match your soul. no. thats just what that bitch said. she believed in that bullshit. if your eyes matched your soul- they’d be as black as hell. but as i said, i wanna ask you a question.
don’t look behind you. you. i’m talking to you. i’ve got something to say. to ask. are you even listening? you fed me lies last night. or was that today? when i said you were an asshole did you believe me? because i lied. i know that you have potential. that isn’t real. i believed it. til you let me go. denied me to your friends. and i hate you. do you believe me? but thats not the question. i want to ask you a question. can you even look at me long enough for me to ask?
when you are alone do you think nice thoughts? is it only when i am around that you fake an asshole exterior to get me going. when you said you liked me, i did not believe you. but now i do, and you aren’t saying it. is that my fault? for being so immature and insecure that i read your truth as lies, and lies as, well you know. i hate you. come on. you believe me don’t you? thats not my question.
are you this way to them all? am i like everyone else? because i thought i was different. different enough to be considered weirder than the rest. you said it, not me. i liked you, but not enough to say. so now i have to go. i never wanted you to know that i like you. i wanted to let that fade with time, like always. as you will. i am stupid to believe in you. to believe in me. i am an idiot to think that you would care to know my question. you don’t get to have me anymore. and i think thats only hard for one of us. and thats me.
i barely said anything of sense, but somehow i have nothing left to say.
(originally published on coffee & cigarettes June 18, 2007 categorized as “cigarettes”)
