Oh why does your love feel like a task?

Your love does not feel natural.

Your love does not feel true.

It’s a chore.

Why do you crying eyes disappear like you removed a mask?

Your supposed feeing are only in your heart.

Unlike those whose love is unconditional,

Your’s does not radiate warmth.

You poor guilt on everyone like it is an empty flask.

Laying all of my emotions out to see,

And being told it is my fault?

Why does this not feel like love I ask.

Well it  is because this is not love.

Love is warm, so kind, so completely blind.

When love is love it is not a task.

Love is not a chore to carry on my back.

Why your love turns me blue and suffocates I do not know.

What brought such hate I have not seen.

Where has your love gone and drained away?

Why has your spiteful love been brought upon me?