I am afraid of the pain
Of being rejected again
But my heart yearns
And yet reels all the same.
The barriers that surround me
Rise higher than mountains, but
Take a step towards me
And they'll come tumbling down.
But those walls rise
Again and again
Pushing back all
So that when I look to the sky,
I look straight up
So that I don't notice
The empty landscape...
Let not fear be a hindrance
To the things you wish to say or do
And so as the gloom of day
Keep you static, unmoving
Supress no longer
The emotions you bottled within
And let your thoughts ascend
Unto their own paths
* * *
Endure the flow;
Leave the circuitry be
Let the pulsations persist;
Let yourself feel a moment for once
Or must the weight of the shadow remain to envelop you
Unless you choose to break away–
Not only shall the sunshine touch your skin,
But the crystals be absorbed and dissolved
I am so confused right now
That I can't even right properly
I want to write something for you
But all I can think about is us together
I can't even use flowery words
Nor deep phrases... I just want
To write a poem for you
A poem to tell you that...
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
I'm afraid to say it right now
Because I might be wrong
Or you might not even care
So I'll keep my mouth shut
Until the time comes
That I am sure of myself
Only then will I tell you
That... I'm into you
It seems to
will never be
A distant gaze
while faint feelings
A wonted fomentation;
Our stares seem
Or maybe she
I can’t tell.
All I can do is watch
I'll get me a yappy dog
A small one
He'll screech and holler
Like a rat lost in the dark
Oh how it'd be
To bear such a mark.
I'll get me a mousey dog
A youngish one
She'll annoy me in the mornin'
Back to the height of the sun.
She'll tap and scrap till...
I can't take it anymore...
Maybe I'll get a biggun one
It'll protect me
Like a gun
She'll keep watch
While I be sleepin'
Till they put out some food
And continue on creepin...
Well maybe a medium one
Crazy as can be
Runnin' out in the mornin' sun
He'll play catch and give chase
Run with the pack
Cageless and free
Until I bring it inside...
Well, now it's gone to pee...
On the carpet...
Maybe I'll throw out that dish
Send 'em back to the homestead
Perhaps get a fish instead...
He was a boy, she was a girl,
Do you see where this is going?
Sometimes she was a girl and sometimes he was sweet,
and sometimes they would smile at each other,
and sometimes one would smile and the other would miss it,
and sometimes neither smiled at all.
Sometimes there were others and sometimes there were not
and sometimes the others got too close,
and sometimes she got rather internally possessive,
and sometimes he raised an eyebrow questioningly but got no answer
Sometimes there was music and sometimes there was dancing,
and sometimes they danced and sometimes they didn't,
and sometimes he watched her and sometimes she giggled,
and sometimes she watched him and had to look away
Sometimes she thought in terms of forever,
and sometimes she thought in terms of 'never',
and sometimes she thought in terms of 'maybe',
and sometimes she thought in terms of 'enough',
(because sometimes she didn't feel good enough)
(and sometimes she worried about not being loved enough)
(and sometimes she stressed about not being pretty enough)
(and most times she didn't feel like she was enough)
But sometimes that didn't matter,
because sometimes he smiled and talked enough
and sometimes his stories were funny enough
and sometimes he showed her he cared enough
And sometime she'll realize enough is enough
and that being attractive isn't always a measure of scruff
and that when you love someone you've gotta say that stuff
because leaving is easy when you don't know enough
Have you ever loved someone so much
You could no longer look at them?
Afraid that if you did,
They'd catch the emotion in your eyes?
This isn't a poem like that, not really
There was no brush of fingertips and long sideways glances
He is not the sun, and I am not the earth
But we could be meant to be
He is not an angel, He does not fly on wings made of music and
He does not leave bloody footprints across golden landscapes
He is not the best thing to happen since sliced bread,
Hell, he's not even the best thing to happen to me
Here I am writing yet another poem
About the way I don't let myself look at his eyes
And who needs more words about how arms feel like home
When it could just be that you haven't been held in a while
Who needs metaphors about butterflies
When in reality it's just an excuse for hesitation
A fallacy-filled reasoning to not take a chance
And some sick culmination of a lack of self worth
I can give you reasons that I love him,
I can give you clues that he loves me,
I can give you explanations, similes,
Excuses for why I've done nothing,
But why even bother with that?
What is the point of waxing poetic about a boy
Who I will never make a move on
And who will never make a move?
There isn't one.