I'm tired of the way you treat me.

Of this love you’ve withheld, keeping my heart at ransom.

You’ve never spoken, never given me certainty—

just left me guessing.

One moment, I’m head over heels, convinced you feel the same,

and the next, I’m sure you’re just denying me, holding back

from what we could be.

Every time I tell myself I’m done, I come back, hoping.

There’s something about you—maybe it’s your smile,

or how brilliant you are, or something I can’t name,

but if I could just figure it out, I’d understand.

Yes, it’s your smile.

It soothes me, it reaches places I can’t hide.

I’m struggling, pretending I don’t care. It’s painful,

more than you can imagine, to know we may never be.

I need more than this—more than sitting here, hands clasped,

hoping, wishing on silent stars that you’d choose us.