New York Part 3 Poem by Taylor Petty

You make me so sick.
I am already reconsidering myself.
Should I have, or shouldn’t I have.
The truth is, I don’t really know.
I can’t decide whether I was serious, or if I just spoke out of anger.
I hate you, I love you, 'pick one, Taylor Renee, ' I tell myself.
I can’t.
Every time I try hating you, you manage to pull me back, without saying a word.
Every time I try loving you, you push me away because you aren‘t saying a word.
Where the f*ck do you stand?
It’s sad that I have to ask, hell, you would think I would know.
But the fact of the matter is... I don’t.
You keep me guessing, all the time.
That’s what I hate about you.
In fact, that’s the only thing I hate about you.
You’re never just simple.
Everything has to be super complex.
One day, you’re blowing up my phone, the next day, I don’t exist.
How do you sleep at night?
Do I even seep into your conscience?
I’d guess not, because I’m just Taylor Renee Petty.
And as hard as it will be, you will be just New York