You don’t love me, you don’t even know me.

Forgive my pessimism

but I am not inclined

to believe every word that slips out

of your mouth.

My lips have meddled in with yours

you have caught me in your trap once

but my heart

no my heart

is not too eager

my heart will not be enthralled as my lips have

by the delicate curls of your mouth

I will not buy into your words


when you say you love me

when you say you cannot

live without me by your side

I wonder,

what me you are referring to

the me you have seen

is not the me I have been

for most of my life

the me you have seen

is merely a screen

polished and cleaned


you see you cannot say you love me

when the spit from my mouth hasn’t

garnished your face.

you cannot say you love me

when the green in my eyes

has not pierced deep into your soul

you have not seen the blue in my eyes

the sea of tears they have drowned in

your esteem has never been the object of my wrath

or your face the subject of my scrutiny

my sticks and stones

haven’t broken your bones

and my words have never hurt you.


you love the wide curve of my mouth

and the echoes of my laughter

you love me in the afternoon

when the sun shines brightly

and illuminates the best parts of my polished face

of my polished self

not in the morning

when my mask has fallen

and my smears

are in plain view

nor in the night

when my eyes are tired

from watering

and my blood is drowning

in booze.



don’t tell me you love me.

you don’t even know me.


4 thoughts on “You don’t love me, you don’t even know me.”

  1. Yet you tell me,
    I don’t love you.
    But don’t see
    the way I look at you.
    When you don’t see my hurt
    at the way you view
    my stares, at the way
    I adore you.
    Yet you say
    that I don’t love you
    but have you
    ever read me?
    I may be
    just as wondering
    as what you
    think I see.
    As much you think
    you know my thoughts
    as though you read
    my mind.
    Is as much as if you
    know mine too
    as though I think
    you’ll find.
    Perhaps it is
    just as you say.
    Perhaps it is
    you’re right.
    Perchance it’s not
    perchance you’ll find
    I’m actually alright.
    In fact, may-chance
    I’ve seen your eyes,
    such emerald in hue,
    but when you’re angry
    as such they are
    they change to grey-ish blue.
    You think I love you
    only now,
    only booze-ridden will do
    but listen here,
    just hear me out,
    Am I not here,
    with you?
    It’s not by chance,
    it’s not by luck,
    I chose to be here now
    But by my choice,
    I drove here late
    just to be here
    with you.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s