Listen to me!**

I'm tired of the games.

Tell me whats wrong.

Tell me your story.

I want to know. I want to help.

I want to be the one to guide you to the light!

You say your afraid.

Afraid that i will leave if I know.

But keeping it from me makes me want to walk away.

You expect me to trust you.

To trust you with my past!

I have secrets I've never told.

Yet you wish to learn them.

Yet you wish from me to never learn yours.

I don't just hand you the trust.

You must deserve it.

I need to know you will listen.

I need to know you will understand.

So tell me now.

While i'm still here.

Because if you wont even  tell me the small facts.

How can I tell you my darkest pasts?

So let me hear. Let you speak.

Or I'm walking away.

I'll never return.

of which
is humor
and of
which is
life
that our
dry mouths
gape
at the beauty
of death?  
old princesses
and young
hobgoblins
will
laugh at
our
naiveté
that imitates
picnic blankets
and checker boards.
"Many perished
precisely
because
they were young
and beautiful."

Andre Breton
laughs
with our age
and our age
laughs
at time
and time laughs
at half
played grand pianos
and full moons
and they laugh
at our fingers
which fumble
at life
and life
fumbles through
humor.

of which is humor
and of
which is life
we wonder
as water clogged
ears strain to
hear.
or listen?

i can't breathe when i think about you
my heart beats too fast
my lungs collapse
someone once told me that means you're in love
but it just feels like I'm suffocating
why do we associate love with pain?
maybe I'm afraid
you've caused so much hurt before
(and so have i)
i loved you once
and loved is just too similar to love
it scares me
to have loved is painful
to love is worse
and I'm suffocating
just thinking about both

it has been four months
one week
one day
and five and half hours
since the last time
I saw you
I hugged you good bye
you tugged gently at my bright blue sweatshirt
I imagined that to be your plea for me to stay
You said "I'll talk to you"
I held back tears
as I climbed into a car filled with unapproving stares
I spent twelve hours on a bus
thinking that what went wrong was
disastrous
but that what went right was
magical
I spent the next
four months
one week
one day
and five and a half hours
trying not to.