How deep is your love?
I wore my heart on my sleeve and told you I loved you. You turned around said you did too but you see yourself with her. I get it. I broke us up once, I could do it again. Yet, you keep coming back. I keep giving in. In the hope that maybe I will still have a part of you. You keep coming back because you know you still have a part of me. It almost makes me believe that you want me. Is that true? Or is it just a version of me that completes you? You’ve said it before and I know it now. It is the puzzle piece that is missing to complete your perfect picture. How pathetic do I sound?
I don’t want to be the other woman. Not anymore. I don’t want to do your midnight rendezvous or your early morning sip of coffee. Yet, here I am, always knocking on your door. Thinking maybe if I can have some of you, it’s only a matter of time till we’re together. I know this is selfish. Ten years ago, I would never approve of this person. Of this version of myself. Now, I’m using this version because it pleases you. And you please me, my heart, my mind, me.
You tell me that you love me and then you don’t. You’re clouded by what you want until you return to your reality. Until you return to her. I am clouded even though I know better. Even though we know better.
In the real world, what good is this for us? I mean, you can’t seem to do justice to a relationship with someone you say you love and see yourself with? There’s no excuse, is there? So, who is selfish? My sins aren’t any wiser than yours. I want to commit and you love the idea of having the best of both worlds. I would never want to be her. Hell, I was her. And now you’ve made me into the women I’ve hated. You’ve made me someone I hate. No, you’re not to blame. Not entirely anyway. But then, I keep thinking about it. About us and our fantasy. I’ve had feelings for you and you see right through me. I keep telling myself that you’re taking advantage of me. But how I can blame you, when I am equally guilty? I wake up dreaming about us in a boathouse or the back of a bar. My legs wrapped around your waist and my back against the wall. Our moans echo through the walls and I want more. You make my mouth dry and I want nothing more. My hands are stroking through your hair and arms, pulling your closer. Not willing to let go. But in the back, there’s a shadow of her, wandering around looking for you.
When you say you love me, it’s this version of me that completes you or your wants. You don’t love all of me. If you did, you wouldn’t treat me like just another number to be deleted from your call-log. Would you?
I really mean to learn
For the times that we speak, there is no one else. In that moment, I am the girlfriend. I get the compliments, the love, the lust, and your attention. I cave and never want to let go. I know what turns you on, and use it. I know what makes you moan and I love that I know. I love that it’s all me. So I am guilty too. Guilty of wanting you to moan and sweat because of me. I am guilty of wanting to wake up cradled in your embrace. I am guilty of wanting to be the person you vent to but also share the new of your next best thing with. I want to be her.
You’re in denial. As am I. What are we doing, stranger? I tell the world you’re my best friend. Maybe you were. Maybe you are. It’s all a blur now. I can’t trust myself with you anymore. You don’t seem to care beyond our platonic relationship anyway, anymore. You ask questions on the surface of things because one must. Then…we trail. We get lost and we get intimate. There’s an adrenaline rush and we don’t thinks straight anymore. Again.
This feels like an addiction. One that I’m not particularly proud of. I am so addicted to you. All of you, that I keep coming back for more. It’s not just the sex. Yes, you make my body feel things I’ve never felt before. You also make me feel sparks and the entire zoo flipping my insides, like never before.
Flash forward, now all I am to you is someone with walls and cranky conversations. Yes. These are my walls. This is my guard to protect myself from the toxicity of this relationship because it’s affecting my mental health. It’s affecting my sense of self and my potential of ever truly being loved and wanted by someone. But just like any other addiction, your presence alone brings back that adrenaline rush and I want you pinned under me. Again.
We’re living in a world of fools, breaking us down when they all should let us be
We all deserve love. Even those that once turned it down or deceived someone. You’re taking that away from me. You’re taking that away from me because you think you know better – for both of us.
What is love if it isn’t all of you? With her? With me? With yourself?
What is love if all I am is a mystery you can’t solve? What is love if all I am is an unspeakable secret? What is love if you’re never willing to find out? What is love if it’s too late to find out?
How deep is your love?
Today’s tune: How Deep Is Your Love by The Bird and The Bee.
Day 33 – 17 September 2017.
333 days to go.
Thanks for listening and if you relate, say hello, please and thank you.