Words running

So many words run through my
head as though all things that happen
either of my choice or your, is my
fault.

The guilt that maybe, once, you felt.
Held it tight and exploded into me.
Indeed I clumsily cling for all bits
from you. Though I demand to know
why. Sadly it is a question that falls
deaf.

  Indeed the carrying of how you
discard the waste bleeding from
you. Somehow I am stuck in the
cross hairs of the moments
receiving.

  Why, how? Only recognition is that of
need but banged against the wall is
all the emotions I close inside of me.
Dare I expell them from my mind?
Dare I find a way to tell you how I
feel? No.

  Told over many decades not show
weakness. Yet you described to me
expressions are a good, healthy
release of toxins. Then how when I try
to tell you, you don't want to hear.

  Indeed contradiction at its best.
Though did you even notice how I back
away? Self absorbed perhaps.

  In a thought, a kind gesture I would
hope somewhere you feel the need to
just grab me and hold tight. By your
own accord not my inquiry.

  Still I am a dreamer, a romantic
and a woman who hopes. At last what
is wrong?

  Plans made, never work out unless
obligation is there. Did you think for
one minute I wanted to be an obligation,
a tedious chore you have to do so
unwillingly?

  No. I had hoped somewhere you would
want, need to do something out of
ordinary. A surprise that lifts and
carries without necessity. Oh how
childish I am.

  I walk head high in the trial
of overcoming disappointments.
Had you listened to my stories of me,
my life you would have learned by
now the littlest of gestures of
unwavering kindness goes a long way.

  Yet even in my sore moments, those
sour pieces I still need a reminder
you still care.

  I thought by now you would have
understood I am doing what I can
to do the same. Alas here I wait.

  Patiently hoping that you are
sincere.