Self-aware and self-conscious;
anxiety creeping
makes me too intense…
Yet still I spill my soul
all over you
hoping you’ll sop me up,
that you’ll be the one who just…gets me;
that it’ll all make sense.
I think I’ve been searching for
that kind of forever friend in everyone
I meet,
everyone I know…
They all fall short,
Either not there enough;
Or there too much
the space in between others letting me
be [myself] and me just…letting others be
is muddy, defunct in the haze
of actuality.
Expectations and dwindling self-confidence
forcing silent pleas
for someone to just try to overstand my
complicated nuances,
and accept them
and me wholly; as I am.
Instead, I settle for
simple companionship –
complacent in my own solid resignation
to the fact that no one in my life
is selfless enough
to love me as purely and completely as I’ve always
done my best to love myself.
It doesn’t hurt as much as it used to…
Loving you,
exploring the world as I know it,
has numbed my heart
around the edges.
Maybe it’s better this way,
I’m always too high up in the
clouds
to commiserate with gravity anyway.
Kayfucius 