Here you are again,

asking for my love.

When it was there, you toyed with it.

You took it, and you tried it on like a garment of clothing.

When you saw that it did not fit, you ripped it with your bare hands, threw it aside, and vowed to never be seen in something so true, again.

You walked away, leaving that garment on the floor.

Now you've returned, asking for the very thing that you tossed out of your vision.

Why? It's torn, now.

I came to you, trying my best to heal your wounds that still bleed to this day.

As soon as my lips part, you shut your doors on me.

Yes, you close me out.

You throw brutal stones at the one you allegedly love;

you squeeze me until tears come out.

You say that life's been a difficult path to travel.

Well, my path isn't the smoothest, either.

I guess that is your excuse to use me as your dumping grounds.

As many locks as I've put on my door,
I'm still not safe from the thought of you.

You knock repeatedly, begging for the forgiveness that has been constantly running from me like a faucet.

Maybe the water has run dry.

Maybe, I'm only willing to give a sip.