what on earth
am i going to do with you
i hadn't intended to like you
but now i do.
and i guess
what's making me
most nervous
is the idea of telling you.
if only i could just
install courage
and look you in the eyes
and say
i like you.
but most likely
i'd go into panic
even trying to say
those words to you,
or if i did somehow manage
i'd go into panic after.
why does this have to be so difficult?
i just want to say i like you
done.
simple.
i like you.

never mind.
i just can't.
i'm to scared.
panic setting in
t minus five

checking my phone
i say is unhealthy
and to not get my hopes up
i turn it to silent store it in my pocket
so if you do reply
i won't know and it'll look like
i wasn't excited to receive a message from you.

hopes and dreams go
almost as fast as a balloon pops
releasing air
a deadly sigh
before it's thrown away.
i know i can't blame you
but,
the hope swelling in my chest
"popped"
when you said you liked her.

i can't blame you really
i mean i'm just getting to know you.
you pour yourself a drink
and you hand the pitcher to me
and i pour myself a drink as well.
then we switch glasses
concoctions of our souls
and serve each other our lives
on not so silver platters.
and we share secrets.
pinky promise you won't tell
that your lips are tighter than those
who never let go.
because i promise
i won't
and my lips are sealed
almost as tight as the strength i would use
to hold your hand.
but back to the point
i look into your drink
and take a sip.
the words leave your mouth.
"i've liked her forever."
forever.
that's something i don't have.
i can't blame you really.
i mean,
i'm just getting to know you.

i know my body language reads
closed.
the neon sign is shut off.
the sign flipped over.
lights off in my eyes.
discourage to see that
"closed sign."
but can someone just
come in
to this abandoned store
and flip the lights on again?
it may be difficult,
but with an air of hope
and a helping hand and once again
flip over that sign
the long wait of a re-opening
it's been so long.

i hate not having courage
i hate being afraid
i hate not having courage
to call your name.
and maybe
someday
if i'm crazy enough
or if courage
finally installs itself correctly
i'll talk to you.

i see criss-cross
applesauce
cross hash marks
in your skin
as if you tried to draw into yourself
the pain and sorrow
and i see it
the drawing you've etched
it brings tears to my eyes
and a cold hand about my heart
because i understand.
i've drawn too.