In a strange way, I think I love you.
Surely, I must.
This the pattern of my thought
leads me to trust.
Truth
is that it stings,
but still I can't let go.
And daily I fear
that I'll never know.
I've done this to myself
time and again,
but never remember a time when,
the time and more went by,
and left me aching to know why,
What all the pieces of the puzzle mean,
or if there's a bigger picture to it,
maybe I'm meant to see through it,
- maybe time and again I blew it
And to you it - it seemed
it wasn't of you I dreamed,
Because I hid,
Silent,
From anxiety inside violent.
So I rest in knowing
that I no longer pine,
yet spend my days wishing
you were mine.
