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Open wounds

I too notice the little things about you while you notice me.
Like the freckles on your nose and the way your hair curls under your ears and your gray winter hat. 
I notice. 
But, I'm still hurt from what didn't happen last year. 
I'm refuse to let anyone else in out of fear that they will take my kindness for weakness and trample on my giving heart. 
I still. 
I still wait for something to change although  my intuition and lurking spelled it out for me. 
The secrets that are not really secrets just things he didn't tell me or want to tell me about, still lingers. 
Knowledge is power but tell me again, what did I hope to gain from finding out?
The scars are still open. Open wounds with a dash of salt called reality. The reality of the love I feel that I'm not supposed to feel. 
Or am I? 
Matters not, I still notice. 
I just built a wall higher than the one they built in Berlin and I'm not sure who's really going to tear it down.
Till then, I'll notice. 

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