you drop a bombshell on me that you might love me again

again, you never stopped, you're unsure

but you gave me hope

that delicious, foolish hope that I gobbled up

because how could I not?

 

I thought I'd see you again the next day,

so we might talk and continue that conversation,

yet you weren't there.

an unforeseen illness, by unfortunate luck

put you out for a week,

leaving me to ponder and unravel this rewoven thread of emotions

 

I concede that it is not your fault for this timing

but it is always poor timing-

a rushed confession,

a stretched break up,

an admission before illness-

it is always like this.

 

you do not mean to toy with my heart 

and you do not have malicious intent

yet, with your volatility you do so anways

 

confusion clouds both our judgements

of our relationship to each other:

you of your own identity and feelings,

and mine with having the ability to maintain

my confidence, in your truth,

whatever that may be...

 

because you say you like me,

but then you leave me

you say that you never had any feelings,

but now you do.

it's a cycle of back and forths of confusion

where I cannot trust your feelings for me

 

and that hurts

because I love you,

I do

whether we are friends or more

I will always care for you

and it hurts

because I do not know what to do with myself

because it's just all so confusing