usually, i speak my mind when prompted. except when it came to you. you were the only one who couldn't pull my guts out. you could never get the truth from me, because it was mine - my truth, my secret, my lie. except, that night hell must have been freezing over, because you asked and i answered.

it began with your bruised ego and my willingness to pick it back up, as usual. it always begins with a fight. it ends with you running away while i'm left alone to pick up the pieces. you expect me to put them all back together, to solve your puzzle. i fail horribly, you take me back, but it's never the same. each time, a piece of us dies.

i felt a gentleness threaten to overflow when i spoke to you of my reasons for failing you. no one has ever asked me what you asked me then. you asked me what you had to offer. and when i told you, i felt your laughter resound in the hollows of my bones. you don't believe me, i know you don't. and i don't even remember most of my reasons, but i can tell you that i meant them.

you said i didn't want you to be happy. but the truth is, the truth is that i do. and i said that if it was with someone else, that's fine. it's ok. i can pretend to make it go away.

i heard you mumble a cheap apology for ever hurting me, but i don't buy it. you can't apologise like that. it was trite, and, for a writer, you could have at least tried to make me believe you. you're sorry. for ever hurting me. forever hurting me.

everything came tearing out of me, and you just let it fall to the floor at your feet. you were busy changing the song on the radio while i was unloading eight years.

it was as if you needed my approval to crush me. and you used humor to cover up the blood that came rushing out of me. i think you want me to go away, and i think you want me to stay. just so i can pick up your pieces while you walk all over mine. you want me to build you up while you tear me down. over and over again, i keep coming back for more.

i don't need to tell you what it feels like when you hold me. i think you know, because sometimes you linger longer than usual. you watch me, sometimes like a protector, sometimes like a voyeur. i know you watch, and i play along, give you what you want to see. you don't have to tell me that you care, i can feel it sometimes. but i still don't understand you - you ask for me when i can't give you anything, and you turn on me when i offer you everything.

i told you everything, but will you ever know?