A flick of the wrist,
a jerk of your hand,
and yet again I'm brushed aside,
put away in a box
and left cold and lonely by the side of the road.

A contradiction in itself:
you are the person I love
and hate
the most, as of right now.

And I will never tell you
and you will never know
not even a word of it.
The nonsense that bubbles from my lips,
trickling out like black tar
to form words
and thoughts
and emotions that you will never see or hear or recognize
because you are off in your own little world.

I guess it's selfish of me
to have trapped you here for so long,
and then just expect you to stay
when I let you go off on your own into that big scary world.

But wouldn't it have been lovely if you had stayed
even just for a day.
To remember all the things that we did before you left
all the love that I'd felt
all the times that we cried.

I've grown up in a way
that I never knew possible,
and you are still behind me
jogging
screaming
running to catch up.

I guess I was the one that left you,
brushed aside in the end.