In the end, my expectations failed to remove my wants.
I expected you to abhor me yet I still want you to like me.
I expected you to ignore me yet I still want you to see me.
I expected you to throw this away yet I still want you to write to me.
And most of all, I expected that I couldn’t make you love me.
But deep down inside, I really wanted to.
And I guess, as I finish this, I still do.