What's the most difficult word in the
                                                                        tio                                          
                                                       dic      
                                                                                      na
                                                                                                 r
                                                                                                      y?
well
for a shy person,

it's hello.

Not exactly the best day ever
not the worst either.

I wish I could say that something amazing
or significant happened
but nothing did.

I'm not the same person I was yesterday
but I have no idea what's changed, exactly.

I feel kinda sad
but not the bad kind of sad that has me crying,
it's that kind of sad from knowing
I haven't done enough.

I didn't live up to this day's potential.
I feel like I failed to do something.

I really should start living in the world more

*my brain's getting too stuffy

Imagine for a moment that the weather is a ******

She is bored as she peels off the chipping paint on my window
and with eyebrow raised flicks the pieces at my bed
(the same bed I am lying on)

I hear the woosh and flutter of her dress
as she parades and struts around.
She is purposely blowing cigarette smoke to my face
like a high and mighty *****
with painted lips and black stockings.

I pay her no heed

She screams and ruffles the trees for attention
flinging branches and leaves in a fit
she speaks and her spit hits my eyes in little droplets.

Her heavy breathing
and banging of doors and windows
is becoming a little too dramatic

I close the window again,
I've closed it a million times
and with her dainty fingers she pries it open to peek

she sulks in a corner
eyeing me crossly
annoyed at my reading
my writing
my contemplation

and true to her nature

          she does it all again...

I remember the day
you said
'I like you'
I acted cavalier
ran the hell away

yet the truth is
I thought I kinda liked you too

I don't know why
I stopped myself

I've turned the pond of silence
between us an ocean

but sometimes,
(just sometimes)
I still feel your glance
and I swear I still hear the
whispers in your eyes.

I've run,
yet here you still are,
and still here I go
running
to there...somewhere

when the truth is
that every time you come,
to that moment before I turn my back
walk away,
I had already spent

hours

                thinking

                            waiting

­        for you.

The truth is
I always
always
know when you're there,
I've memorized the way you walk
to the messy of your hair.

There's nothing more to say because

I've never said anything
nor have I ventured near enough to hear you
speak.

I am paralyzed
by this anxiety
this deep fear, they've weakly deemed

shyness.

I hate when I wear my pretend indifference,

because the truth is
I like you,

I've always.

If I could catch anything
with these small stubby hands
I'd catch the train
that leads to  you.

I never realized
you were the* only reason
for facebook

and as I watched you walk
away from me,
I knew I never tried hard enough

I wish these sheets were a cave
I could hide in forever
bury my face in
comfortable old threads
and familiar smells

where time moves slowly

breaths
deep and full
lungs filled to capacity
diaphragm like the arch of a gymnast's back

where the darkness swallows
rocking back and forth
cradles you upon its tongue.

but it is what it is

..a scrunched up fist of frustration
tired sponge to daily tears

a ***** throw away rag
to an unfolded morning rush

it's
     just
           a piece  

           of cloth.

I'm walking armless in the dark

nervous unrest my only companion

My heart beats inside me
like a watch
inside a crazy man's head

threatening
threatening

to explode

The truth is
I've got no more face
to face you

I've been such a ****
and when I look into your eyes
all I feel is shame

your face
with its smile
and accepting eyes
has become a mirror
of all the times I put you down.

I am not avoiding you
because of you
I am avoiding you because

of me

it's the whole cliche'
of "it's not you, it's me"

but maybe it is you

the fact that you
do not hate me
or condemn me
or even as much as recognize my shame

you're drowning me in guilt
and your open arms
are worse than the prodigal son's father's

so when I say
goodbye,
know that
it's not you
it's me
and my insecurities
and my self doubt
and maybe my depression
and maybe my fear

so I'm not gonna like you
I'm not gonna like you

even if I already do