No Complains

I whisper, to you.
You turn away.

I smile, straight.
You laugh, astray.

I forgive. Again.
You don’t acknowledge.

And just like that.
My soul dies.

A little bit.
Every time.

Still hoping. For.
That high, the first time.

You gave me.
No more, can I recall.

How it felt.
The past, glorious.

It stings now.
But I still stay.

Within the walls.
Of false pretenses.

Wishing, one day.
You will see. 

Realise.
What still is left.

It’s one word, hon.
That’s all I want.

And I’d crawl back.
Glide into it.

No complains.
Nothing at all.