I am the most difficult person to love – I know that. I will tape the remaining pieces of your fragile ego, while you beg for a fuck and a smoke.
I will dissect and dispose of the memories of your inner demons, while you grin and strum a chord. And I’ll have my doubts as you play with the blonde strands of my hair.
But the thing is, I wont say anything.
I’ll bite your lip as you long for a passionate kiss. And you’ll wait for me to text. But I’ll be busy forgetting my favorite freckle on your body.
And you will give up and go out with the boys
And on the day we met a year ago, I will be here. And you will be there.
And in your world I’ll cease to exist because that’s just your style.
But not I, because even in my writing you’ll exist – the one place you promised another main character could not fit.
I am the most difficult person to love – I know that; or perhaps I was just too close. Too close to get you to fall in love with me.
And perhaps it was you – the most difficult person to love.