Smoothe Talker

Telling myself over and over that you won't be there,
but praying every other second I'm wrong.
Racking my brain to try and think of way
to make myself forget everything you said.
The way you turned your head and smiled
sent shivers down my spine,
and when you spoke to me
it put butterflies in my stomach.
But I bet you look at lots of girls that way,
and speak to many women like that.
I wonder if you know you're doing it anymore;
a lustfilled look here,
a flattering word there.
I ask the heavens if you treat every female so.
You know what they say?
Nothing.
Whether out of pitiful shame,
or in defense of heartbreak,
they don't answer.
I can't get the truth,
and I don't think I will.
You won't be there.
But my mind still sees you
leading me across oceans,
only to discover that
you just wanted to watch me drown.