Love is...

They say that love is what you make of it.
But I have to admit.
I'm getting sick of it.
I'm sick of all of my unheard cries.
And all the lies.
Everything that we pretend to do.
Everthing that we walk through.
All the fake smiles and laughs.
As we wait for the time to pass.
You push, so I push back.
And with that we go off track.
All the sleepless nights.
After our blood thirsty fights.
Our arguments that end with nothing to say.
So instead we walk away.
And end up not talking for days.
I want it all to go away.
I love you but it's not the same anymore.
I think we killed our love and walked out the door.
Things just aren't the same.
And me and you changed.
I want to make this work but it's not going to.
No matter what you or I do.
Somethings are meant to be a way for a reason.
And our love changed just like the seasons.
From one form to the next.
It changed without rest.
So with this we have nothing else to say.
So slowly I turn and walk away...