See I look at you
Puzzled because I don’t know
Your real intent
Are you horror?
Comedy?
Sad love story?
Which is it?
I wonder, not because of curiosity
But maybe a deep
Deep
Knowing
That if you could make me cry
The way you do
Then how can I make you cry too
If you could make me feel
This good
How would I return the favor?
Was it always meant to be
Me just looking upon
You?
Were you always just here to appease me
At least once
Or was there some kind of
Lie written in your lines
Your paint
You’re art to me
But there you are on the wall
Not saying a word
Even tho I’m begging
Pleading
Crying out for sympathy
You just don’t seem to give a
Fuck
And now I’m stuck
Wondering
What was love?
If I fell for just a painting
One that will never give me what I need
Because you never really
Felt a thing
I was always just an onlooker to you
And in your own words
You were using me
To give attention to you
