If you love me like you say that you do, if you truly feel that way, careful what you say and do, when it’s separate from what you say.
You tell me that you love me, but in your heart you know, merely words upon the breeze, what do you do to show? Syllables without actions, thoughts without design, only noises spilled from lips, devoid of purpose to the mind.
Words like “love,” and “sorry,” so easily expressed, prettily displayed, so eloquently dressed, but although lovely, they are only words, devoid of any substance, when meaning isn’t heard.
What do you do to show love, such a simple request, what actions are you taking, what intent is expressed? Do you keep the house clean and neat, do you make the bed, are the dishes washed every night, or do you instead:
Watch videos on tv or on your phone all day, rather to sit at the switch, for it’s more fun to play? Do you make a list, every chore complete, do you spend cautiously, do you make the bitter sweet?
Do you inquire about my day, show an interest in what I do, or am I merely the bank roll, a tool for you to use? Is this house not your home too, a reflection of both of us, a place of love and caring, built of respect and trust?
For when the hour is late, day too quickly gone, and I’m exhausted, with everything so wrong, will you one day wonder, what did you do so wrong for me to leave it all, in desperation gone.
Will you act to salvation, work to understand, see my desperation for you to be a better man? Will you try your best, even if it’s tough, only to find I’m still gone, it just was not enough?
It won’t be a warning, instead a sudden drop, where your heart breaks your fall, and feel that it had stopped. I’ll be gone in hopes that someone new will do the things I wish you had, but is never you. For if you truly understand, love gave you a reprieve, but after far too many nights, I found I had to leave.