If you didn’t feel loved by me, my love I wouldn’t be surprised.
When was I ever given permission to?
My touch was met with your absence. The wrong time, wrong way, or too much.
My gifts with their thoughtfulness were slowly accepted, insisting I never spent my money on you.
I cooked meals filled to the brim with my love, but you would not eat.
Every day I told you that I loved you, that I was grateful for you, and how lucky I felt to be yours, but you never believed me.
The opportunities for me to take care of you were rare, you always focused on taking care of me.
I’ll never even know if being with me was something you enjoyed. By the end, even while next to me, your mind would be somewhere else entirely.
Can you see now why I wouldn’t be surprised?
I loved you but you wouldn’t let me.
A Series of Observations 