I know what I did now,
I can understand it.
I know why you don't look at me now,
I can see it.
I know why we are broken now,
I can't fix it.

I can feel the gravity of grasping your heart
and pulling at it hard and fast;
reeling you in and turfing you out
unintentionally cruel.

People speak of heartbreak often; I am no exception
except this time,
it is me that is the cause
Funny how it takes hindsight to realise
how terrible humans can be to each other,
especially when they think
that they're acting
out of love.

I think too much,
much too much,
that I know;
guilt, sadness, worry all wash over me

and yet I am decidedly
content
I present myself as thoughtful
yet happy and if anything,
a bit dull

at the minute,
i'm running away from my head,
from my dreams,
from my plaguing personality,
rotting away at those I love,

let me tell you something,
there's a place I'd like to be right now,
and it's alone,
with my fingers and toes and inner thighs just
tingling.

I think I take up too much space;
my mouth is too loud,
my legs are too wide,
everything about me is clutter

I bring up the same boy that broke my heart,
I feel so distant to that girl now and yet,
it's like I'm nostalgic for the pain I put myself through
and for that, I am an *inconvenience

Why is it that we always want what we are not?
I so desperately wanted to be in love,
I was so sure I would be happy;
but I'm not.


All it has done is shift my discontent,
from that empty void of a boy
to myself -
and you don't need me to tell you,
discontent of self is far worse

I do not have dreams about the boy
that I have,
that loves me and holds me,
the boy I know I do love,

Instead, i dream fondly about the has-been boy,
The one who tore me down,
Confirmed my cynicism,
Shattered my already tumultuous relationship with love and ***

Yes, i dream about the has-been boy,
But worse still are the dreams of the could-have-been boy;
These dreams are different;
They concern the physical, they remind me of the brushes,
The near misses,
These are the dreams of lust and ***

I do not have dreams about the boy
That I have
For i am secure and happy there - and my shattered conscious cares little for contentedness,
i can not dream about my hearts satisfaction,
i must be craving.