It’s the anticipation of expecting to prove everyone wrong,
****** by the realization that they were right.
The pride that I know us better than anyone,
we’re different,
we’re better,
we can move past it and be better than before,
lost in sheets that aren’t my own and highways we’ve all been on.
It’s the void between us even when our bodies are clipped like magnets.
And I’m looking down so deep for anything,
any trace of sameness.
I’m looking down from that 40 foot jump
into dark blue water lined with foam.
And you’re behind me telling me to jump,
that it’s okay,
that I’ll be fine.
There’s a rock to my left,
there’s a crack on the ceiling,
there’s this ******* tension that I can’t ******* shake.
There’s you and me sitting in restaurants and airports,
in cars and outdoors for hours.
There’s you ******* me as hard as you can,
and me inventing a ******* excuse as to why I’m bawling as you finish.
Because it’s easier to lie with you over me
than tell you I can’t feel anything anymore.