I am a woman and I am not easy to love.
I will tell you I’m okay when I’m not.
I’ll tell you your actions don’t make me second guess.
I’ll tell you I’m okay with no titles.
And then pull away when my feelings get too intense.
I’ll tell you I wasn’t expecting your call.
When I’m steady checking my phone every 10.
I’ll wish you a safe night out.
When I really wish you were occupied with me, instead.
I’ll read your messages.
And when you ask, I’ll act like they were never received.
Silence my phone and stare at the screen.
Let it go to voicemail and pretend your name is something I’ve never seen.
I won’t always tell you how much I really care.
I’ll expect you to know what you’ve done wrong.
I’ll have you feeling guilty over me being guarded.
Over me overprotecting my heart.
I’ll create arguments that don’t exist.
I’ll tell you let it go when I really want you to tightly grasp.
I’ll expect you to know all the answers
To questions I’m afraid to ask.
I’ll frustrate you. I’ll piss you off.
I’ll make you pretty fucking mad.
I’ll get offended when you tell me you’re fed up.
I’ll expect us to move forward when I may be the reason we keep going back.
I’ll forget that even though you’re a man,
You have feelings, too.
I’ll defend myself by saying I’m a woman and we’re emotional
Like that’s supposed to override all the crazy shit that I do.
I probably won’t be the first to tell you I want you to myself.
Because love stories are never told in that fashion.
Instead I’ll wait for you to metaphorically kiss me in the rain.
Write me countless love letters laced with passion.
I’ll forget that we’re human.
I’ll forget that you’re not the man in those films.
I’ll forget to appreciate our own story.
And that our own happy ending is something we must build.
I’ll expect you to chase me.
I’ll expect you to want to solve my riddle.
I’ll expect you to meet me halfway,
When I’m still stuck in the middle.
I’ll spend a ton of time telling you I love being alone.
As I listen and mentally dedicate songs with memories attached.
Close my eyes and convince myself that I’m an independent woman.
And pretend like our broken pieces aren’t each others’ perfect match.
I’m not easy to love.
And one day you may tell yourself I’m no longer worth the attempt.
I’ll cry and make you feel terrible.
Then have you on this hamster wheel again.
Soon you’ll grow acquainted to my routine.
And the sympathy card won’t hold its strength.
I’ll finally admit that I love you.
With hope that it’s not too late.
We’ll have a heart to heart.
Where we both open up and point fingers to our past.
Reassure each other that I’m not her and you’re not him.
Make-up sex, you’ll kiss me and touch my body to fade the hurt off your hands.
I’ll tell you let’s take our time.
I’ll tell you let’s take it slow.
Ignore the fact that we’ve done things backwards.
Instead of first base, we started from home.
I’m not easy to love.
But I won’t give warning signs to let you know.
I’m a woman and we’re emotional
I’ll use that line over and over just to see how far you’ll go.