I've written a poem about this before,
you're singing a song of course I've never heard and the lead singers voice is far better than mine so I don't try to figure out the words and sing along.

It's weird being back here.
With you
with us.

Is it awkward or am I just awkward?
I don't know but I am very aware of my breathing and how loud it is.

I'm sad so let's listen to something sad.
To feel more sad and force tears out that were probably coming anyway but apparently in this world force is the best way to take things, I mean get things.

This is what I'm thinking.
I know you're wondering as I just stare blankly, but of course you didn't ask cuz **** if I'm not the only one that cares about the state
of someone else's heart beside my own.

But I was thinking Its weird that you're known as the crazy one.
I've always thought that people were crazy because they have so many emotions running around in their head and they're fighting for which one will be felt.
But I think that I feel more than you...
I feel like you don't feel anything at all. Not even in the slightest do you feel. I mean ******* A I could hold your hand over a fire like roasting marshmallow and you'd probably be using the other hand to look at his snapchat, trying to see if you can relate to anything and text him about it so that he has to respond because it's something he likes and I'll die before he cares or even at the least knows something that You like. So I hold your hand there and I'm forcing you to feel something but I think that you work too ******* hiding feelings so when you actually feel them it scares the living **** out of you, I can tell you're frightened, you rip your hand from being close to mine. I hadn't even thought about holding your hand yet. And I think your feelings are louder than mine, and they're a jack in a box. And you don't spin the handle but other people do and every once in a while your feelings scream from your mind all the way down at your heart and you freak out, because it's scary when feelings are that loud.

I don't think you know that when I say I feel more I mean more. And the difference is that they're more often and they hurt more and there's more reason to feel this way. But my feelings aren't as loud as I think yours might be. Because they don't scare me like yours scare you. Mine are like a constant tapping on my shoulder. Please get the hell off me I know this is what pain looks like, I don't need your reminder. But for you I think you try to feel nothing because when you choose to feel you're normally offering your heart to a sledgehammer...

BUT at the same time it's like you like to get destroyed, like picking up pieces of you is a game. I hate that game. You always forget pieces, me pieces, the reason all your pieces were together in the first place because everyone else stripped and sold your parts, but I bought them. I bring them to you and they're fixed and they're ready and you love them. I promise you love being whole, I've seen it, I've felt it, but whole isn't normal is it. And you think you're weird enough already so shattered is comfortable and whole and complete and loved and happy is weird so you do whatever it takes to avoid feeling those things...

Sometimes I wish you played songs I know because I like to sing and I want you to hear me singing because you would know that I also know the words to your songs. But it's not like you like the sound of my voice anyway. It's shakey and weak and vulnerable. His is defiant and loud and harsh. But mine is real. My words are true, they're not games, or jokes, or lines for my next poem that I thought I'd try on you first.

You believe actions over words, my words only stem from my actions...
But You're avoiding me, like you know that my actions are what you're waiting for but.
you just wish that weren't my actions...
but that they were his.