I swear
           I've never been okay with myself
     grown up
always needing someone else --
like I didn't spend
                 enough time
            tending to my soul
(even when I'll be all alone
                                                                forever)

and it hurts in my bones
                   because no one's
            home
if I don't have a
                          validating
                                 friend

but I don't want to run
             to the guy who wants the pictures
       I don't want to run
             to the people who have no problems
                        kicking me to the curb
     when all I wanna do is help them

      I don't want to run
           to the outside

               the outside
   is where the hurt comes
                                                      in
            and it
                     cuts deep
     because there's no one home
          and the lonely corners
  are screaming
                     for a hand
          and I am wondering
    how many more mornings
                I will wake up
            clutching my own

           until I realize
           I cannot find what I need
           on the outside...

    maybe I'm starting to realize
              
                    the answer  
                 must be within

even this separation
I feel
becoming a dance
as you process the events of Sunday,
I slowly let you go
and tell you it's okay to leave
because I'll survive
(Probably
)
and you have never promised me
anything.

and even the separation feels
familiar
Like you are kidding and might return
home for dinner.
that you might return home
and welcome me into your arms
maybe with no hesitation
behind your eyes or
guilt ruminating beneath your bone
structure

And I don't want to break down
your structure,
it is not my desire to see
pieces of you on my bedroom floor
or a shattered heart
beneath your ribcage

and I never want to enter a realm
where I can hurt you
but you've already hurt me
every Sunday and every time
you feel unworthy and
every time you don't see the disparity
between what you say
is my truth and what you can't
see as your own.

even the separation between
these figures
seems close
to being intricate and a
twisted
echo
of who we are and who we might be
together

You won't be here forever.
You won't be here forever.

Sometimes I wish I could survive
         on the insides of your skull
     as a parasite
                    you hated...
I'd always be with you,
close to your flowing
                      stream of conscious thought;
    you could never rid yourself of me.

I wouldn't have to leave you
                   and
I wouldn't have to change you...
  maybe I could just see you
                  grow
I wouldn't have to break you--
  maybe you wouldn't break me
                  either

  maybe we would both crumble;
     I know I can't escape--
--you cant escape--
                     we...

                     we.

                                         *I'll miss you.