Look up, sweetheart, look into my eyes. Look at the façade I show you; don't look past the piled love, don't look deeper, for you shall find a buried displeasure. You shall find seeds of hatred. Buried and watered and fed by false sentiments you share, growing with each "I love you" you don't mean like I do. I pluck its flowers and leaves, but l can never seem to pull the roots, buried so deep. Never addressed.
Look up, though, darling, look into that shallow show of love. Look at that smile and those adoring eyes; don't look at the thoughts behind them, don't look at my grotesque soul. Believe me when I say "I love you". Believe me when I say "'l'll follow you". I do, I will. But l'll hate you and want reason to not every moment.
Look up, though, love, look into my eyes. See my beautiful half-truths, see my adoration of you, see my love of you, see the me I want you to see. Do not see the the self-hatred, the loathing, the desperation for affection. Don't look too deep, for you shall see the real me.
Look up, love, see this fake, disgusting love. Look into my eyes and see what I want you to see. See my want to not hurt you, which is more real than anything else I feel, be it hatred or adoration, love or disgust. See my love, please, and love me back. Please.
YOU ARE READING
Dear, Love (Never Read This...)
PoetryA Collection of Poetic Prose and Other Assorted Items.
