HATE, and Other Questions

What good would it do me to say that I cry
How would it help to admit to you that
The pain on days like this wells up into my throat
Silently my tears overflow and no one knows
Not even you can imagine how hard it is
Every time you see my face, does it hurt you?
Do you look into my eyes and recall the shine,
The sparkle of fire barely showing through,
Which ignited and smulders only for hopes of you?
How would it be to use of either of us
To tell you what you don't even want to hear
You called yourself obsessed
I said I love you