I don't think you have the slightest
about the alarm that goes off
when your arm brushes against mine.
It says WARNING.
Be careful.
Just too close.
Like the lady at the museum,
who wore wild red curls,
that extended and gripped the viewers
who were centimeters away from the paintings.
"TOO CLOSE!"
So when you grabbed me,
and ran miles around my mind,
before I had to moment to find
the courage to say- "I think we're going too fast,"
My heart would have told you with every
song it skipped.
My spotify woud have told you that I was not ready.
Because every second I spend alone
is occupied not with thoughts of you-
I'm sorry.
You're new.
But thoughts of the many daggers that have be thrown
into my bones.
And you're not him, thankfully.
But I'm so very sad about that too.
I know your shoelaces will stay tied.
I know you're in it for the ride.
I'm sorry.
I'm sorry.
I'm sorry.
Thank you.
For keeping him off my mind for few moments.
I'm sitting in my room,
thinking of how many kisses he's consumed.
****. ****. ****.
Why did he fit the bill for me?
You're beyond that entirely.
Why don't you fit the bill for me?
Am I only drawn to beatings?
Have I tasted so much defeat,
that I can't ever allow myself a victory?

I'm lost and I'm scared and I'm sorry you are there.