I'd be lying to say I loved you,
Or you had a special place in my heart,
But I don't. Love is a drill that bores,
A chisel that carves out a shrine for itself,
In which we worship each other as prophets.
But your toolbox only has a hammer,
Bashing and breaking, but never building.
So instead of poking holes in my heart,
You just hammered in a soft spot in my mind;
One you keep poking leaving me found dumb.
No wonder I'm always dumbfounded.