if you loved me

If you loved me

you would tell me

and then you’d tell me

you love me again

and again

I would argue with you

and ask why

and for what reason

and still you would say

I love you because

you’re lovable

and I just do

and we would talk about me

and more about me

until you convinced me

it was true

or until one of us died

if I was lovable

you would drop everything

literally

whatever is in your hands

rush to the door

or the phone

or into the room when I’d call

and you’d smile as I sent you away

because I wanted nothing

except your willingness to please

we could play this game again

and again

and again

until you ran back and forth

so many times that your legs

were worn down to stumps

at that point

to prove that you love me

you would scoot

to and fro

to and fro

on the floor

swinging your torso

with your strong arms

naturally I would leave you

because without legs

you’d be useless to me

but at least I’d be quite

sure of your love

and remember it fondly

even though I did not love you

but that doesn’t matter

that isn’t really

what’s important here

what’s important is me 

and you loving me

and me questioning

if you love me

and you, whoever you are,

proving that you do 

and me being satisfied

and feeling loved

for about five minutes 

until we start the whole thing 

again because you love me

you let me torture you by

telling you about the men

whom I love, who,

through the same

twist of fate,

do not love me

and treat me poorly

talk about themselves

call me closer

and send me away

confident in my love

for about five minutes

when they call me back again

and again

and again

or until they meet a woman

whom they love

who calls them closer

and then sends them away again

and again

and again

you love me so much

that you haven’t spoken

to me in years

every now and then

I’ll reach out

to tell you that I miss

how much you loved me

and you’ll tell me to fuck off

because you love me

so much you think

we should not speak

for the rest of our lives

I tell you that I understand

I tell you that I’m sorry

that I don’t feel the same for you

I say how terrible it was

me stringing you along

accepting your love

when I knew I wouldn’t return it

even though you knew

I wouldn’t return it

because I told you

that I wouldn’t

and you gave it to me

freely freely but also

perhaps in the hopes

that one day I may

change my mind

and it may be returned

I feel badly and my apology

is sincere but, most importantly,

I’m still talking about me

and we’re still talking about me

and isn’t it still all really

about me 

and how much you love me

and what you are willing

to put up with

to prove to me

that you do

which is now ‘no more’

so I’ll always remember fondly

the love you gave me

that I accepted but didn’t take

and how recklessly I handled

such a precious

and delicate

and tender gift

that you tried but failed 

to convince me

that I deserved

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is there anything

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to tell you how I love you