No-one truly knows the one they love.

no one really knows the ones they love.
if you really knew everything they thought
I bet you'd wish that they'd just shut up.


I can listen to sythesized dreamscapes for the rest of my life, and you'll never place here. there's are parts where you go, and parts where you don't. and rings meant something sometime before. but you're crushing, and unavailable. I'm not myself. I can't comprehend. or reason capabilities. why these are always put on my shoulders. oh please please. I'm wrong I'm all those things you want to hear when your anger hits the floor and you're somewhere beyond rational escape. and yes! this is very very much the lacking I explained. these gaps here are needlessly unbridged. but have we noticed how my sides are making weak attempts to connect with those of yours which keep moving farther and farther away. have you taken time out to notice my pathetic need for conversation, or your ongoing silence. the ways you know you're burning me but regardless, burning me with some sort of intention that I'm unable to identify.

please know that quotes from your mouth would only sound louder here.
those words used to corner and package me won't be sorted or accompanied by my opinions.

somehow there wasn't enough time for those I have too much time for. and something for those whom I have nothing for on a regular basis. your understanding of my delicate balance wore thin. and this isn't something to use against me. your manipulative tongue will be tied or cut off. and I'm sorry. but not. I'm just tired of being yours your favorite anything you need.... to use me for next. the personality to fill the gap. the thing to be in love with when you're alone. or the one to blame when the rest of the word is breaking you into pieces. how many times do I need to explain my self to you? my gaps in words, or misspellings for purposes you forget over and over. how I'm not her. but you like to treat me like it anyways. and you should know! you should know... so well. . that we're not all here for you. I can't be on task, and on time, and on call for every waking moment of the day. not like I see you make her seem to be. and don't pretend that I look the other way when you cry or whine. when you creep into that infantile state you so quickly revert to when the winds don't blow your calculated directions. and you love me, but won't talk to me. these are angry words. from my angry forms. in response to your evasions. and keep in mind that everyone says things they don't mean constantly. but that everything's meant at least once when it's said. when people can't take enough, they break out in frustration. and I've had this. I've absorbed it. and hurt enough. I've bled painful tears and told many stories to many understanding ears when I crack under pressure. I can't handle your condescending tones that come at random. the belittlement and the annoyance in your eyes when you can't understand my difficulties. and half the time you contribute. while sometimes you soothe, and ease, and things work out well. I try my best to do the same for you, but I'm an awkward companion when I don't fit in the right places.

two bests. two seperately unique situations.
two excruciating failures. and these failures all fueled by my insides.
quitting while ahead is no longer an option. I'm incapable of requesting any information.

but maybe someday you'll remember my wounds guided your path.
or maybe how you always figured I never grasped the concept.
but how I'll tell you now that I knew better the whole time you forgot to pause and let me respond.
two loves, and nobody knew the ending but me. because on the inside, it's all different.


well, you were the dull sound of sharp math. when you were alive.
no one's gonna play the harp when you die.
and if I had a nickle for every damn dime
I'd have half the time, do you mind?