Why Lie? ( I am very new to this so please tell me if i did something wrong )
You told me you loved me,
and somehow
The thought of it never went away.
I knew your hands,
your habits,
the shape of your silence,
but I never knew you.
Not really.
I never knew what you truly felt
When it came to me.
Just thoughtless words.
Empty feelings.
I think you wanted a version of me
That was easier to hold.
Someone without complicated feelings
or difficult thoughts.
Someone who wouldn’t ask questions
Or need reassurance.
That’s why we never talked.
Not honestly.
I spent so much time
filling in the blanks for you,
building explanations in my own mind.
I couldn’t think clearly anymore.
And I don’t blame you.
I just can’t stand you.
And maybe that would be easier
if I didn’t still love you
in some strange, ruined way.
Because I do.
Even though the thought
of being alone with you now
makes me feel sick.
Part of me still wants
to know you deeply.
The other part
is terrified of letting myself
Be fooled again.
I was told
You were just using me.
That you never cared,
never wanted me,
never loved me.
And I fought those words
With everything I had.
I defended you.
I told myself
you cared with feeling,
wanted me with desire,
loved me with passion.
But love should not feel
like begging someone
To acknowledge your humanity.
That’s not love.
Because you didn’t care
the way I did it.
You didn’t want me
beyond what I could physically offer you.
And I don’t think
you ever stopped
to consider how deeply
All of that affected me.
But I considered you constantly.
I thought about
whether what I wore mattered to you,
whether the way I acted
changed how you saw me,
whether the things I said
would make you stay.
I did all of that
Out of foolish love.
Now it’s just a habit.
And somehow,
that hurts more
than your indifference ever did.
Because habits mean repetition.
Conditioning.
Muscle memory.
It means I gave you
every piece of myself
so many times,
that even without love,
My body still remembers you.
I was foolish for offering so much of myself
to someone who only knew how to take it it.
I gave you everything I could give,
and somehow
It still felt disposable to you.
What hurts most
is knowing you don’t remember me wanting more.
You thought I wanted
Something detached.
Emotionless.
Just sex.
Just convenience.
Something physical
Without commitment.
As if my body
was the only part of me
worth touching.
Why continue
To lead me through uncertainty?
Why let me believe
that one day
you would finally want me
The way I wanted you?
Why lie?