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Fuelled

(Fuelled with Resentment)

I think I feel numb.

 

You’d rather do That than please me.

 

(Fuelled with Resentment)

I think I feel numb.

 

Yet you say you want to be One.

 

You’d rather do That than please me.

 

I’d understand more if you were dumb.

 

But we both know you’re not.

 

(Fuelled with Resentment)

I think I feel numb.

 

It can’t be me.

 

It can’t be my fault.

 

You’d rather do That than please me.

 

Yet still you’d rather embrace the past than see how far we’ve come.

 

You’d rather protect all of it than me.

 

(Fuelled with Resentment)

I think I feel numb.

 

I don’t know how much further I can go, for we don’t let each other be.

 

Perhaps it is all me.

 

You’d rather do That than please me.

 

One day we’ll start to have fun.

 

Though perhaps for that to happen you need to be free.

 

(Fuelled with Resentment)

I think I feel numb.

 

You’d rather do that than please me.

It

I hope,

I pray,

I continue to get ready every day,

nothing.

 

I dream of your touch in some way,

every time you brush past,

I start to hope.

 

You touch my foot and I shudder,

I await more but nothing arrives.

 

We sleep,

side by side,

but all you do

is turn the other way.

 

I prepare myself every day

just in case,

but you don’t even notice.

 

I hope and pray,

I spend more time on how I dress.

 

I apply more to my face,

I go casual,

I go plain,

nothing.

 

We go out,

others take their chance,

but still nothing.

 

We talk and change the circumstance,

nothing.

 

I change slowly,

I ask for a back rub

no,

nothing.

 

I hope and I pray,

I get ready every day,

but still nothing.

 

I ask if everything is okay,

it’s not.

 

I change,

we try,

still,

nothing.

 

Depression seems to be in the way,

I try to move her,

nothing.

 

Surely everything will be okay,

nothing.

 

I hope,

I pray,

I continue to get ready every day,

nothing.

Wishing

(Just wishing – we)
still made love.

 

A year gone and I lied,

saying that we’re still the same.

 

Trying to be someone who puts you first,

but in vain.

 

Your works nearly done,

we’re about to move away.

 

Thinking that if we stayed,

we’d still leave.

 

(I’m just wishing – we)

still made love.