Just me and him...
Having a conversation in the quiet of night.
Just me and him...
Baring honesty with no restrictions, no fright.

I tell him,
"Why must it always rain on me?"
I confide in him,
"Why do I feel what others don't see?"

Momentary silence...

And then he says,
"It doesn't always rain...
Sometimes you are sheltered.
You feel too much.
Over things that shouldn't have mattered."

Pause...

I am a child, fighting my case.
"If I don't, who then will choose to care?
Who then will toil for days to come?
I'm exhausted now...
And it's not fair."

He chides me in an instant.
"It was your choice to take on this role.
It was a decision made freely.
If you're looking a direction in which to point,
point to a mirror and you'll see the reason why it's taking a toll."

I gasp in faux disbelief
for I know it is true.
I've known all along
that it's me, not you.

I hesitate...
And then I reply...

*"Oh shut up!"

My feet are planted in today,
But
My mind wanders into the past
And yet,
My heart yearns for the future.

I took your ticket and
Pondered the number,
When might it be me?
Was a thought that I wondered
But now, as it seems, you want us to
Stay, not move on, just stay
As we are.

I thought I was playing a
Waiting game,
Anticipation of
Life
Linked in a love to be
Blessed.

Dreams of white
Danced round my head
And although I'm still twirling
It seems the music has stopped
And the wait is no more

For there is no other room
No other next level,
The door locked
And you hold the key

I could cry
Drown in tears
Try to swim through the keyhole
But I thought you were my ticket
Thought you'd let me in

I can't fight in the waiting room,
Nor beg you to move through
For if you wanted me, if you wanted to
You'd have taken my ticket and said
"I do too..."

It’s been quite a while,
since I really poured out,
on a page with words and letters,
which I can’t say in passion or rage.

Words don’t spill from my lips,
they get all twisted by my tongue,
it’s scary, unnerving and uncertain,
I wish I could disappear into oblivion.

I don’t sound like Shakespeare,
my words are simple and straight,
the others have it all planned out,
I want to be like them,
so I stay awake thinking,
I stay awake till late.

There has never been anything truer,
I have never confessed in simpler words,
I wish my words had more life,
I want them to fly away like birds.

I am scared of not getting better,
it’s been a while since I felt something,
reading what I have written,
but it’s all so bland and stupid,
I feel pained and bitten.

I don’t know if I will get better,
I don’t know what the future holds,
I just hope I am a great poet and protagonist,
in a story that’s yet to be told.