I cried, but I didn't understand why, so I laid there for awhile in thought.
As I became one with darkness, I realized:
I feel inadequate.

I am smart.
You are smarter.
I am strong.
You are stronger.
I am stubborn.
You are stubborner.
(Not that I'd ever tell you to your face.
I've got to keep up appearances you know.)
I'm genuine.
But you are moreso.

So when I told you that I think I love you,
my feeling of inadequacy grew.
I don't want you to admit to feelings that are untrue,
but I wish you could decide if you love me too.

I can't tell you any of this.
You'll draw back inside yourself.
So I'll continue to hide it.

I hope I don't shrivel up and die.

Can I fall in love with you?
I won’t if you don’t want me to.
I say I won’t - I only hope,
You’ll let me spend my time with you.

please
I’ll ask you with kindness one last time:
do not
absolutely, do not
(oh, brown eyes, brown eyes…)
break.

your bones are splintering,
the fibers that knit together your identity
are becoming unwoven
it seems—

& I don’t ask this easily,
nor without understanding
your lingering pain:
for the same ocean you drown in,
I’ve come to know
& the same bridges you’ve jumped from,
I’ve stood upon, aloft—

& with the wind&waves; I bend,
yes, I, too, bend--
with our evenings awash in escapism
& our midnights amiss with noise
[& our daylight alive with passioned kisses
never meant to ever say good night]--

yes we bend, dear friend,
but we absolutely cannot break.

dear love of mine,
we are two branches that ache on the same rotten, fallen tree,
two butterflies with gold-plated wings that labor to sing,
two corpses encased before their time,
two veins that race with the same
bloodlust for living

[but also for dying,
for that is our flaw,
& we do it exceedingly well].

for what I give to you is peace,
& what you give to me is inspiration—
two things that fight to exist
in a world that throws them out with
itswars&itslost;&itspoets.;

so in fact it is not love
we share in our greetings,
but rather the
enabling of
narcissism,
masochism,
& the misery to which
we harbor&cling;.