I'm still confused
After all this time
I research what makes the
most of you tick.
I can write you down in theory
And predict your stale remarks before you
Sit down for your salad

I am the obscure outline that flashes
through your foggy windshield on a rainy night
You can't predict anything about me,
except maybe an outcome of loneliness -
but-
I know better
and that's too far a distraction
away from your comfort.

Do you feel confused/sympathetic/annoyed
when I'm in front of you?
I'm a dark place where fear is swallowed down
To get away and find happy things
forget me just as easy as it is to ignore me.

I still don't understand
You get 100 and some odd number
Here is my heart
What's it worth to you
1or2. A third one, two weeks later.

Maybe I should embrace your imperfection
Then
You might accept mine.

I still honor 1, 2, and 3
for having the insight to notice me
Throughout your daily intake of dull debris.