A word with you, please.

I think it’s the way I write,

So you can’t cease my words

and you can’t see me

Wandering.

You try following me through a pool of thoughts.

To be what?

A friend?

A comfort?

But I read you.

You take it all back within seconds.

Maybe it’s the way I talk

So you don’t understand my language

Or grab it away

Like you can’t find me

Or like my thoughts

They’re hiding

I’m hiding

You’re hiding.

And I’m wondering.

Maybe it’s the way I observe, so closely catching any forbidden words,

I sing those that land in my ear.

I’m the outsider that knows every one of your expressions,

every movement you make,

I’m already 3 steps ahead of you.

My body watches closely,

Digs into every sound, a shovel to bury you underground.

Wouldn’t you know?

You never thought to look

Inside me, inside my words

Myself, only I carry a hate as conspicuous as the hate you give everyone who touches you.

But you know. Don’t you?

Everyone knows.

I know

But I wonder

I wonder, I wander, I’m trapped in a corner of pressure, unfinished business.

I don’t want you here, I don’t want you anywhere near me.

I can’t be stuck with you forever.

So I think I’ll walk myself back,

And crush your words.

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