The newest Love not yet explored. Of all the feelings shared, but rarely reciprocated. How dare you ingratiate yourself then disappear. Your leaving was only a physical separation of what we'd yet to truly join. The feelings remain and rage each time your absence is noticed. Daily.
Disappointed in this outcome yet accepting of what must be fate. No longer shall I reach, plead or negotiate. To Love you is to accept the inevitable hurt that follows.
You encourage this newfound masochism. I don't like the means of it, but almost anything with you, I'll take it. There was a time I would make every effort to say these things to you directly. Things as they are now I won't bother.
The ease with which you dismissed me, the many ways you expressed that I'm not a priority and how I've yet to experience the whole of you. I Love you just the same, only from a distance for the sake of my sanity.
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