i’m done
with feeling numb;
like knowing you’re not good
but you’re not bad either.

i’m just
not sure
what to expect these days.

i need
some semblance of a beacon,
not just your roaring tides
beating incessantly against
the jagged shores.

you can’t
light a match,
then expect me
to hold the flame steady
against your violent winds.

don't ask me to do this
all over again.
don't ask me to
save you.

don't ask me to keep up.

rather,
throw me some fire;
at least i know it will burn.