Lo$er in this Game

I care more than I ought to; I like you but don't like that I do.

I turn around and catch your glance and for a second, nothing hurts.

I swear I hear you laugh amidst the noise and for a second, nothing is heavy.

(If I bleed, I'll make sure you're the last to know.)

Even if you don't want me to, I will give you my heart anyway, because I cannot give you the world, because I cannot give you the stars, because I cannot help it.

You offer me sweet words and considerate thoughts while holding your hands over your heart, leaving me in a guessing game of how you truly feel.

Sometimes I let you convince me that you care (like when I hoped you tolerated me enough not to xxxx xx, and you didn't); sometimes I am left wondering about your motives.

(How long will it take for you to admit you're tired?)

I hate when you look at me like you know how I feel and it's okay - it's okay, because you feel the same.

I hate when you act like you care - but I miss you when you don't.

(My affection is blind to the cruel kindness you hold her with.)

If I don't take the first step towards you, would you care enough to take it instead?

(Perhaps if you wanted to, you would.)

I'd rather you be a stranger, because lovers always leave.