Can you ever love something,
Love something that you fear?
Things that make you tremble much
And maybe, even tear.

Is it ever possible to
Put out those blue flames?
The fire glows so bright and strong;
Impotent is the Thames.

But maybe you could control the fire,
Change it in it's form.
Tame the beast from fire to feast,
Use it to keep you warm.

The crevice slowly closing up,
We only have one day.
The world is done and the end is nigh.
Is there really no other way?

Maybe you feared it at first,
But ****, do they mean a lot

When they're leaving.

I know, I know
I'm the fudging reason
You all don't love each other
I know, I know,
Not the first time you're
Reminding me...
Just shut up would you?
And maybe leave.

The conversations on the post-its we share
Aren't
Lame.

They're just constant denials and
Occasional encouragements;
The exchange of unanswered questions because
For some reason,
I'm not comfortable answering
When everyone is staring.

It's almost as if
I'm going to write this
Secret essay full of love and concern and
A script expressing all I feel.
All the bottled up worry about you would be
Matched from thought to term,
Scribbled down onto that
Tiny piece of paper but

Who am I kidding?

I **** with words.
I **** with expression.
All I do all day long is
Sit behind this stupid screen at 3am in the morning
Typing down this hell of a poem (is it even one?)
And regretting everything I hadn't done
When I was still
Face to face
With you.

I should have sat down and
Thought a little longer and
Maybe my brain would come up with some
Wonderful solution or word of encouragement
Like the powerful ones you always give me.

I should have, at least,
Gone over if I needed your help instead of
You always coming over to my side
And then ending up getting criticised.

I should have given you a
Huge hug and asked
You
How you were feeling but
I'm just a fudging coward
And a fudging selfish creep so I

Sit there every morning and
Wallow in my own sadness,
Fighting a seemingly non-existent battle
And I neglect you again — ******!

I promised.
I promised I wouldn't do it again but
All I ever do is make you
Worry and worry and worry and
I don't seem to be there, ever.
When it's time for me to help you

I DO FUDGING NOTHING.

.

.

.


The conversations on the post-its
Aren't
Lame.

They're just little bits of hope that
Maybe one day, the replies would both be honest ones,
And even if it says "No, I'm not fine" and
The other one says "You want to talk about it?"
It's a glimpse of hope.
And it'd be true hope for once,
Not just a mirage for disappointment.

It'd be the beginning of understanding,
It'd be the beginning of another beginning,
It'd be the beginning of starting over, you and me,
Closing up that gap

But most importantly,
It'd be the beginning of
A New kind of Happiness