I never asked you

But I never asked you for lies. 

I wanted to hear your voice. 

You know...

just thinking as I 

skimmed my fingers along the chiffon dress..

the one that seemed to remind me of the moment...

when you told me I was pretty.

What a beautiful dress...

and how ugly I feel now when I put it on.

So bitter, so negative. 

At night when I arrive at the gate,

I can smell you. 

Actually, 

it's the scent of tobacco.

Its rich and deep penetration hits my head hard.

How strange.

I find happiness in that disgusting stench. 

And I remember your face so clearly.

And my eyes veer towards the chair, 

by the window.

The packets of sugar that sit next to your empty cup of coffee.

The row of lighters that adorn the center of the table..

black, yellow, white. 

How long I lingered there. 

How patiently I sat, 

and talked, 

and talked, 

and sat.

How patient I became, 

as if everything suddenly........

stopped. 

And though I had somewhere to be, somewhere to go.

I did not care.

And I asked you many questions. 

And I asked your eyes for understanding.

But I never asked you for lies. 

I never asked you to call me pretty, 

I never asked you for your drawn out embrace. 

I never asked you.

I never asked you. 

I never asked you. 

I

never

asked

you.

And you said a little too much

yet not a lot, 

and you touched me too deeply, 

although I only felt you for a second.

And you loved me more than you should've

Because, you loved me.

And you shouldn't have loved me at all.

Because, I never asked you. 

Because, Now you're gone.