you watch me like a flame.
closely; so intensely I forget my shame.
you bring me out of myself and into the light,
but I run from your dark spots, prepared for a fight.  

cause in reality, you're not an angel,
and I'm not the messenger that I want to be.
in actuality, this is more painful,
a little more sinful than I used to be.

it's like I'm hiding from myself, so unsure
of what I'm feeling; I can't breathe anymore.
let the pressure build me up and my conscience weigh me down-
I'm crashing.

10.4.15