I hate you. I love you.
Badly I wanted to attain you.
Make you mine. But no more.
I have stopped now. Most days.
Sometimes I forget and covet you.
Blinded by desire to be perfect.
But you aren't good for me.
You make me unhappy with myself.
Like I'm not ever good enough.
So I am walking away. Again.
But I will probably be back.
This is post was written for six word fridays hosted by Making Things Up.