There is someone out there for everyone.

You keep me guessing day by day.
Like dangling a carrot before a donkey,
or is it my extreme mode of perception?
Is it I who tempts these metaphors to be ruled by my emotions?
Is it I provoking heartache for myself with such devotion?
Do I secretly gain pleasure being puppet on a string?
Or was it powers of destined fate that left this nasty sting?
Genetically programmed to cling on each,last word.
I wonder what I represent,
A doormat I imagine
So forgiving every time.
A vivid sign of weakness.
I despise this trait I possess.
Floating like a leaf on a breeze when you mutter those three magic words.
Suddenly,blissfully at ease.
Yet how quickly you withdraw them with your anger and your angst.
Then days pass in silence and the turbulence errupts in my soul.
Nothing is spoken,I am no longer whole.
I see myself as worthless and a hurricane of doubt.
The chill sets in like winter as I hibernate in fear.
Words spoken without substance, no actions to reinforce them.
My words are spoken to a phantom audience,
Rotting like sodden,autumn leaves in the rain.
wasted,unsavoured,never softly whispered,
to my someone who is out there for everyone.