Il m'aime

I'd rather say nothing at all and pray, to whomever listens, that you accept me, than to say what I'm truly thinking right now and be rejected.

Is it unfair?
Is it wrong?

You said you loved me, once. That beautiful day, I couldn't say it back to you. You never said it again. Though I've said it a million times since then.

Is it hard?
Is it painful?

I thought I'd cried the last tears I was going to over you. But I keep thinking of the things you said, when you loved me. That beautiful day, I couldn't bring myself to say it back. I tried, but my throat closed and my eyes filled with tears. I showed you, the only way I knew how. I held you closer, I pulled up my walls. I didn't believe you then, though I wanted to. I wanted to hear you say that over and over until the end of time. I wanted to belong to you. I wanted to.

Do I regret it?
Should I try to forget it?

You come to me, in random moments. Random memories, glimpses of happier times. Times when we talked. Times when we hugged. Days I miss more than anything else.

Isn't it ridiculous how I still let you haunt me?
Isn't it sad that I wish you still loved me?

Did you ever truly love me? Was it for the best that you never said those words again? Can I forget the look on your face when I pressed my lips together? When I said "Yeah, right?" Can I ever forgive myself for that look on your face? Can I ever forget that you never said it again?

Isn't it tiresome how I keep coming back to this moment?
Isn't it bewildering how I never think of you, then you are suddenly all I remember?

All I keep thinking is that I am Scarlett O'Hara, standing on the stair landing, calling to you. Telling you I love you. Begging you to stay. You just turn, your Clark Gable sneer. "Frankly, my dear..."

And isn't it tragic?
Isn't it pitiful?