Remorse of the Apathetic

sadness pools so that i wish, long, for the feeling of numbness i've
wrapped around myself, pulled back for a single instance showing
me my true colors. black. for selfishness. for my lack of self-control
poised and ready behind that made up cheshires smile.

my words are true, but not the whole truth; you'd think less of
me for knowing.

but is my pain really for you? or merely self pity? destined to
replay in this loop, repeating, repeating, repeating, repeating,
repeat... i wont kiss you, but wont you kiss me?

will i never learn my lesson, will i never have the intuition to stop
myself on the reds and go on the greens? is it your internal strife i
agonize over? or when you tell me of my untold amazingness,
which never seems to be enough to make anyone's cut that keeps
me down in this self-created-well of despair?

can i really love you enough to let you go? or will i hold on like a
dagger, selfishly, painfully. keeping the gash, this raw open wound
in your side, in mine, from healing? ration tells me of my deceit.

and i wish i'd been given the opportunity to act, to press my face
to yours, but that chance is now nothing more than a distant
fantasy.

and i don't lie, so i wont kiss you, but.. please, wont you kiss me?