Repetition

The repetition of it kills me. Every time the same. The chance meeting, the pursuit, the gradual removal of my guard. The inconsistency, the uncertainty, the inevitable hurt. The same speech, time and time again. Questioning what is wrong with me where no one ever really stays. One day someone will prove me wrong - well, I hope as I sit here telling another man that of course we can be friends and no his behaviour hasn’t hurt me, when really I’m crying between texts.