Don't ask me for more that I can give,
I can only guess the consequences.
My heart and soul push against my mouth every time you analyze my answers,
sealing it shut with empty humor and nervous glances at the clock.
Your eyes scan me as an intrigued scientist would a lab rat.
Dismissing it as curiosity doesn't make me feel less of an open skull,
brain laid out on a table before your intrusive fingers.
Our languages got fixed up, I said one day.
You believe in unrestrained openness and I believe in boundaries.
A dog and a cat play together in different speeds.
I understand you feel like I'm not giving you enough,
but I don't want to pay for our friendship with every passing thought that crosses my mind, every emotion my heart has ever felt.
Sharing is like giving you blood.
Each drop drains me more and more until my heart is left empty, my vains running dry.
I know they don't exist, but sometimes I can't help but see you as a vampire.
When I say I don't want to talk about it you interpret it as an invitation to probe farther.
Telling you that it's none of your business would only turn you against me and I do not feel like running circles around my apologetic lies.
You said that the cracks you make in me will deepen our friendship, I'm afraid of falling down the endless void they create.
When I told you of the blood and the cracks,
you pitied me and said you'd wait for another moment to search into my psyche.
A venomous snake hiding in a fruitful bush, my privacy is not a level to forcefully unlock.
I appreciate what you have shared with me, I have shared planty with you as well.
Don't weigh them against each other, the percentages are nothing but a false debt.
And after you hear this poem, don't run to me with glistening tears and ask me for more that I can give, I don't owe you my life.
Good times tho
Not u me
Btw want my stf back
Drop off in a.m.
Work in morn
I don't even text in text talk. It's a curse of my profession. I was just imagining how easy it would be to take the cowards way out of a relationship these days.
P.S. Hashtags are jokes.
— The End —