An Ode to That Person

You have to know that I do love you.

We don't get along whatsoever.

I don't know why or how.

We've spent miles and miles traveling together down the path,

unwinding ourselves,

just to go back to

Square.

One.

It might be because of her, but I don't know the truth.

I probably will never know.

I guess that's our relationship.

Mutual

Dislike.

We have to somehow get along.

Just tell me what to do.

Without telling a story.

You tell me to worry about myself for once

not others.

It's confusing - your conflicting ideas and demands.

Can we, no, will we

ever get

along?