see see see

Washing my hands of you will not be easy. I will pretend that I am perfect; that I am fine. That the last 5 months were just a gentle stride on this walk of life... That nothing meant anything to anyone at all.

You asked me to believe in you;
I had faith beyond belief.
You asked me to listen;
I listened and saw what no one else cared to see.
You asked me to be constant;
I was constantly concerned.
And you asked me to be patient...
but I never, ever learned.

They say that the love we give is the love we get,
but they never say from who or where...
This uneven distribution,
this unequal balance of time, effort,
--this this this is... ridiculous.

I don't love you the way you want to be loved;
not in the way that you seek.
I don't long for you or pine for you or ache
to be touched and wanted by you.
But I love the light in your eyes and the spark
in your soul that I know exists,
if only if only if only you could stop your games
for a second and just see...
We don't always get the love we want....
... but we'll get the love we need.

Washing my hands of you has never been easy.
The heart you carved onto my hand is slowly,
slowly, but surely, beginning to fade away.
And the less I see of it the more I know,
that in due time, I will be okay.
OK.