Everything I Wanted You To Tell Me
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Everything I Wanted You To Tell Me

From the wild to mundane and to everything in between.

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Everything I Wanted You To Tell Me
Tyra Blackmon

I wanted you to tell me that you cared.

That no matter the circumstance you'd always keep fighting for me. I wanted you to tell me everything that was racing through your mind and then everything that I could've done to make it better. I wanted you to open up to me even though there were things that no one else could make better but yourself. I wanted to hear your words, your biggest fears. I wanted to hear what keeps you up at night.

I wanted you to tell me your dreams, your aspirations. I wanted to hear about your passions and what makes you feel alive. I wanted you to tell me your favorite color, your favorite food. How you feel when you wake up on crisp autumn mornings. I wanted you to tell me the color of your eyes and how much you hate them. I wanted you to tell me everything you hated about yourself and everything you loved.

I wanted you to tell me your stupid jokes and I wanted to hear your stupid laughter that you applied to all of them.

I wanted to hear all of your favorite songs-- but instead, it was your voice belting them out at 7 p.m. on the drive home along to the radio.

I wanted you to tell me that you loved me. That you loved the way I looked at you when you did something dumb, or the way I smiled when you'd sing along to your favorite songs.

I wanted you to tell me how I made you feel. All the thoughts racing through your mind when you held my hand or when I held you in my arms. I wanted you to tell me about the fire burning inside your heart when you laid there that night of the 24th. How we talked to each other about how the stars were placed in the sky.

I wanted you to tell me about our first kiss. How you said you could've kept going for the rest of your life if I let you.

I wanted you to tell me about the night where we sat on the bench at Heritage Park at midnight and smoked together. I wanted you to tell me about how you felt flowers in your lungs instead of the smoke or how you felt when you laid your head on my shoulder and knew I stopped breathing because I wanted to be so still for you. I wanted you to tell me how you felt when you grabbed my hand and pointed it at the stars trying to guide it in the direction of every single constellation you saw.

I wanted you to tell me how you felt that night you drunk text me saying you liked me and then how you felt the next morning when you said you didn't like anyone. How you felt the night I laid beside you in bed when you took too many pills.

I wanted you to tell me that you loved me -- and you did.

But I didn't want you to tell me that you loved me when you left.

I wanted you to tell me nothing.

That instead you left in the beginning when you said you didn't care the first time. I wanted you to call me terrible names or tell me that you never cared.

I wanted you to make me despise you, loathe you with every atom in me so that I wouldn't have to remember what it was like to actually care so much about the way you woke up with a smile on your face on the mornings where we both wanted things to work but knew it wasn't going to.

I wanted you to tell me nothing.

That when you left the first time,

I wished that it was you running -- not your mouth.

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This article has not been reviewed by Odyssey HQ and solely reflects the ideas and opinions of the creator.
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