I don't understand what I want.
I feel like I'm cutting through a layer of thick metal,
enduring the sound of scraping steel scratch from surface to centre
and I'm not getting through—through to you.

I talked about him today. Embraced his disappearance in my memory
and seemed to watch him walk away all over again.
I was washed with emotion and serene understanding
of some in depth sentiment that I only found intact with him.

And it just ******* ***** because I acknowledge my surroundings—
they're printed and plastered all over in bright reds and yellows
making room for summertime without the sadness—
yet some void remains sat square in the middle;

Some lost hope, unable to make sense of what exactly belongs there.
And I'm cutting through layers of other peoples' minds
to see if their context can create art with my emotions.
But it's nothing but dull.

It's all surface and no substance,
which discourages the complexity of my being
and causes the wind from the outdoor tempest to reach
the ends of my eyelashes and the edges of my clenched teeth.

What I'm trying to say is, maybe I'm expecting too much from you.
I'm imagining mansions and kaleidoscope chemistry
with sparks sputtering out of my mouth
in the form of stutters and laughs that keep me breathless.

But instead, I'm getting dying embers,
that come from the scorching coal path of my memories burning beneath my feet.
I'm expecting too much, but I can't risk expecting nothing at all
for someone who can't even make my fingertips tingle or cause my heart to race.

Especially because I know the feeling of awe;
especially because I've felt it all before.

gd