"Why do you talk about me all the time, Sarah Jo?"

Why do you ask questions you already know the answer to? Things you already know but I could never actually say to you. Is the answer not written across my face and between every other word I say?

And what is the purpose?

Am I just one more trophy upon your wall? Or the one for whom you would eventually fall?

I know you don't want to give me what I seek. And I know all the things you don't want from me.

But that doesn't stop the delight I feel in your presence. Doesn't stop me from feeling that everyone else must be missing all the wonderful things I see. I don't even know why you spend time with me.

I know this could all end in disaster. Some invisible cliff and I am approaching faster and faster.

But maybe you'll always be one of my best friends. And I'll find the love that makes everything else make sense.

I still don't know why you ask questions you already know the answer to. Maybe you don't know. I thought I was being abundantly clear. But you won't get the words from me here.