you never know what to say to me
because i am a whirlwind
through your calm quiet streets
you tell me i am profound and deep
when i am just babbling
to hear myself speak
and keep myself from erupting
you don’t believe me
that you always say the right thing
you say i am the most amazing thing you’ve ever seen
and i secretly think that you must not get out much
except i know i make your breath stop
and my poetry leaves you tongue-tied
you asked me if writing to you was therapeutic
i wanted to apologize
i am always spilling all over and you absorb it
like water into sand
i feel like the ocean
always retreating from the shore
only to come back again
instinct says you will never be able to give me what i need
and yet this thing is still eighteen months burgeoning
i am always on the verge of telling you to stay back ten feet
or petulantly point out that you started it
i don’t want the complexity
i’m still convinced it will mean the death of me
and i have not been equipped for it
since the disaster of francis
and i wonder if you will destroy me with kindness
you have been worried sick
despite the times i’ve been a bitch
you hint that i should move to your city
and i bite my tongue on the insanity
i wonder if i’d fear what you offer
if you’d moved forward right away that october
before i was cut to the quick
when it would have been easy to get over it
i do not know what to do with you
you have called me your muse your soul mate
and i confessed you were the last thought before i hit the concrete
and now we carefully don’t discuss it
and i cannot help but assume
that when you tell me you can’t wait to be the same room
that you must too disconnect with a sense of impending doom
some nights i curse the night we met
because this is not how i planned the lightning to hit
and there are nights i bless it
because you are the first i’ve ever seen
who crawled into the dark to join me
and you lost a lot of sleep
to make sure i was still breathing
stealing promises from me when i was weak
it is strange that there were nights you are the only reason i’m alive
when we’ve only been in the same room twice
and you are so deft at finding excuses at any price
often a midnight witness to all the atrocity i’ve survived
i never know why i’m telling it
and i get embarrassed
despite the fact you always receive it like a gift
i have been telling myself for months that this is not mutual
while you are gushing that i am inspirational
that you can’t imagine scraping through a fraction of what i’ve seen
which i find ridiculous because i am the littlest tiredest thing
i think you mistake me for a goddess
when i am a stumbling exhausted mess
it’s hilarious isn’t it
i’ve walked barefoot through every acre in hell
and i’m not confident i can let go of my self
i’m so convinced i’ll burn to a crisp
when you are as dangerous as a rabbit
but the situation is so intricate
i don’t think i have the stamina to weather it
and it’s safer to blame it all on the distance
and keep up every fence
so i don’t ruin it
which turns me into an instant hypocrite
i would rather run
and think of it as something i could’ve had
and leave you with the mistake
that i am brilliant and perfect
and something that intimidates
when i’m lucky if my socks match
and every single day i wonder if this is all worth it
and the answer is that i can’t know yet
and getting lost in thoughts like this
is why I never get anything finished
©️ 2016
Originally posted on my DeviantArt
Mischa Fox 